ampheus
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poetry by the new me. proper credits keep the current flowing! @uknowhim
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240
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239
truce
see how the world
is wrecked with wars,
and somehow
we found us with
such an ease.
people be having
tough times
making up their minds,
and yet somehow you
chose me over peace.
239
the sphinx
i guess i knocked doors
of forbidden tombs,
or ripped open by mistake
some forsaken wounds,
and they won't stop
haunting me now,
and they won't stop
bleeding me now,
not at all.
239
the brew
and maybe, perhaps,
having a taste
for poetry
is something like
having a taste
for coffee.
some can’t imagine
a day without it,
while some just
don’t seem to
like it much,
or even hate it.
some like it cold,
some mildly warm,
and some piping hot,
the kind that
dares to burn
your tongue.
239
to you
these nicks and cuts,
and bruises and burns.
they all seem
to lead to you.
these nooks and bridges,
and crossroads and turns.
they all seem
to lead to you.
239
Obvious
It’s funny of you
to think you’ll
put flowers in your hair
and walk past me,
thinking
I won’t notice.
239
crossroads
i find myself in stillness,
standing on crossroads.
heart racing with trucks,
rage riding on loads.
the asphalt warms me,
the breeze then follows.
the contrast clicks shivers,
the moment then hollows.
lights flicker in colours,
buzzing red and green.
traffic crawls like crickets,
the roads and me, between.
i see jiffies of hues, and
there also is a yellow.
maybe the settling sun,
a warning, subtly mellow.
the white breaks and runs,
and seldom silently fights.
god forbid, a man, be
this close to citylights.
239
passive smoker
and one fine day,
we decide to break free.
out and beyond we run,
as far as can we.
then sit on the edge
of old castle walls,
bleeding and fragile,
our freedom calls.
you pull out cigarettes
and light one in smoke.
you offer me a whiff,
but oh, i don't smoke.
shrugging, you turn away
and slyly, you smile.
rings emanate your mouth,
it has been quite a while.
then you face me again
with your smoky red lips.
eyes, flinched in fear,
grasping my fingertips.
of times bad and good,
of all moments to miss,
how gently, i hold you
and how firmly, we kiss.
i feel the winds blow,
you see my heart beat.
losing count of time,
this cycle must repeat.
now when blood clots i cough,
and tumours bloom in me,
patterns they dab on tissues,
a passive smoker, they call me.
239
not seeing the sun
i used to cherish
how the gilded rays
fell warm on my cheeks
and made my irises gold
then as nights grew longer
and violets crept in
the irises faded
and quietly i grew old
now the claims of
silence hold me
while the sun
misses me too
and for the fix
maybe something as
simple as waking
up early should do
239
and i hate you
and i hate you,
for the promises
you made, but
never cared to keep.
and i hate you,
for the smiles
you gave, the ones
that made me weep.
and i hate you,
for the butterflies
that never escaped
their cocoon.
and i hate you,
for the season
of love that faded
way too soon.
and i hate you,
for the metaphors
and every line
that you write.
and i hate you,
for the laughter
that at once
lit up my night.
and i hate you,
for a thousand
reasons you’ll
never get to know.
and i hate you,
for the laurels
of love i’ll
never get to show.
and i hate you,
for every thought
in my mind that
subtly drifts to you.
and i hate you,
because now,
i hate to say
that i love you.
239
your name
of the most sought,
most fought,
and most abused,
is your name.
written a lot in
my diary, on my
palms, and then cut,
is your name.
most repeated,
most revised,
a mantra,
is your name.
beautiful to read,
cursed to take,
yet painful to write,
is your name.
239
Questionnaire
Is it all laurels
or lost empires,
gilded glints
or salty sapphires?
Is it peaks of bliss
or aching voids, deep,
a deafening wail
or secrets to keep?
Is it the gods you seek
or the fiend you fend,
broken promises
or hearts to mend?
What are you then,
what do you desire?
a burning tsunami?
a rainforest fire?
239
Dust
And someday
my words shall find you;
you’ll read them
as if they were scriptures,
only to discover
I’ve become
someone
you can no longer worship.
239
They dream a thousand
dreams, my eyes.
Looking the world through
anger and despise.
I blame the sun, along
with it the skies.
As it takes an eternity
for me to realise.
Truth lurks somewhere
between the lies.
And blessings follow
me, in disguise.
239
Postcard
She remembers the days
and the flowers kept.
How we kissed slow,
as the stars slept.
In the blue petunias,
amidst the cool breeze.
How her calm caresses
put my soul to ease.
She remembers the days,
Every detail of the fall.
I wonder why I just
don’t miss her at all.
How the summer burn
got subdued by the snow.
As winters took away
the poor cupid’s glow.
She remembers the days,
that’s all that’s left with her.
And I don't even remember
the day when I left her.
239
Quiet
Something these days holds my quill,
Chains my mouth and scars my lips.
Twists my tongue and pulls it still,
Chokes me until my blood drips.
It loves to take away from me
The only thing I call mine.
The words I weave, the rhymes I love,
And then my verses, line by line.
It makes me doubt each letter drawn,
Each breath, each thought and each song.
Whispers that my voice is weak,
And that every word written is wrong.
But still I grip my crooked quill,
Though fear may wear me thin,
For poems are all I have to fight,
And I won’t let this silence win.
