That Thing Called Trust|what’s love, that gypsy wanderer |Oh!The Irony


One thought that lasts

10000 Spoons, Sometimes too soon…

10000-spoons

"It's like ten thousand spoons
when all you need is a knife
It's meeting the man of my dreams
And then meeting his beautiful wife
And isn't it ironic...don't you think
A little too ironic...and, yeah, I really do think..."_Alanis Morisette 

Oh! The Irony

So you want to know what is love

What’s love…Oh! The Ironic

Oh! Love, That gypsy wanderer

When some people talk about love,
_I don’t talk about poets, swan, and dove,
Of chimeric thoughts that hover
over a dream-catcher net, when it’s over

_But we, like ordinary people,
at wee hours, they daydream
of that day the  get caught,
like a wisp on a stream,

And Of which they never talk,
and again, she never thought
But only longing sometimes, of that night
as if they were_ him a tenebrous Latin lover
and her, Ô my fair lady of one night!
He came by, singing under her balcony,
thither, hither and yon,
Knights, castle, and beyond
have they ever met. Oh! The Irony
What’s love…that thing out of reach,
Oh! That was the only way of which_

Like a thief,  that robbed,you and left
with your valuables, walked away
then left you, with a broken heart alas!
He never came back, anyway

A Gentleman burglar, like The Saint,
You may thought… But no worry!
And it makes you sometimes  feel lonely,
With a quantum of solace, to linger
at a simple note of sorry,
left on a table, at reach of your finger

or was it simply a hungry burglar
That had eaten your diner,
one night while you went for a walk,
and of which you never talk.

For years you lived on a whisper_
a word that he uttered to you
like to a young spouse,
the day they just wed, Whose_
she has a sailor husband,
he said to her the morning he left,
and sailed away

_ and Her, she stands at the window,
peering at things, that might peep
on the offings, Him, The only, the while, the ship,
the first sole mariner coming.

Waiting for days, like a widow
the day they’ll return to the safe harbor,
Will find her there, at the moors,  like the other wives
With Anguish cutting their guts, and tore like hands cut with knives

Then, Oh Happiness
they’ll be living for a week or two
As they often do
on lobster they’ll dine,
with hot bread and wine,

On Fresh water and d’ Amour
Like always, and come toujours
and then, on left-overs, like everyone.
They go sitting there sometimes,
at the dock of the bay, wasting time.

Just having small talks, mamours and caresses,
wasting time, until the next day going at sea
Watching their hearts glowing low like embers,
Under the ashes of a bonfire, on a golden shore.
at the sole thought, of departing encore.

kissing goodbye  in such no sweet sorrow
That sailing in the morning tomorrow
When the birds will be leaving the nest

I am, sitting here, like dog on the bay,
The while, the only thing, waiting for his master to return home
Do you return home someday! my love
Oh! I am too nostalgic to remembrances,

Sorry, guys, What a mess! I’m drunk of love, I have to go anyway

 “Sittin’ here  resting my bones,

And this loneliness won’t leave me alone, yes”

“Now I’m just go sittin’ there
at the dock of the bay Watching the tide roll away, ooh Wasting time” _Otis  Redding-_(Sitting on) The Dock of the Bay, lyrics

©what’s love_Kalimelo

She's in Prison

That Thing Called Trust  I opened my heart to it, relinquishing power into your volition, touching my palm to yours  and memorizing the comfort of unrestrained connection, allowing the circle around my fear to bend  for you. I liked the way it felt, to grant you access to my sealed chest, leaving the door a little ajar, the nightlight always shining just in case you wanted to come in, even in the dark hours, in my dreams, the recesses of my head. I found faith there, faith that I was safe, that as long as I trusted without doubt this taken chance couldn’t hurt. I never expected you’d force me to flicker the light, that you’d be the one to swallow my love like whiskey, with a wince.

It’s a new week and I’m pumped to be back. I’m ready to write and so blessed to have you all here to listen. Thank you for standing by my side on this poetic journey.

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Kalimelo

I am an autodidact writer, and enough of an artist, to draw upon my imagination_I can't pretend here, to imitate Einstein's expression, nor to profess having enough knowledge of that sort, credit is, where credits due, noblety obliged, nor to build equations, or lost gravity, still having this audacity to emitate Mr. Einstein one's expression is a crime of Lese-majeste, and to not for being an imbued person, first, pardon my intrusive Introduction, but isn't it an imitating someone, the same like of gardening and planting coliflowers? Maybe Orchids... Secondo, I just have borrowed his quote _"knowledge is limited, imagination encircles the world ", for the pumps and circumstance, and just for the sake blogging, put it that way down to paper, and to fancy make an old dream of mine comes true, perhaps one day, and if time permitting, a would-be a writer and having enough ingredients for writing prose and possibly poetry _Thankful always to my reader for stopping by, and To all the followers: Thank you for following my blog, regularly, and by your likes on my posts, you're encouraging me each time, to persist and strive to do better for blogging than the sensational, and to take the risk to be boring sometimes ; please send me your feeds Thanks you again extra large for your patience _Modestly speaking: _Inspirational Dr. Seuss's quote: _“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And You are the one who’ll decide where to go.” ― Dr. Seuss

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