The mizzle feels so laden of gloom,
a faint scented odour makes an overture.
The waves in vain loom, crumble so in practice.
The curlicue in style, an ephemeral beauty repeats aeons.
Hue in violets, early dawn sheens the froth.
The restive rustles on the shore, the trees
warn me of the dormant hiss of the waves;
yet the stretched arms of the sea tempts an embrace.
The husky whispers that cadence and fall,
sibilance’s calm.
All emotions that refuge in its bosom,
sowed deep in the sands.
Maybe, my love doesn’t reach the shores...
stewing in despair, it chants your name.
I allege the morning sun beautiful,
the shades of the verdure basking in sun, I swim in;
a walk in the cascade of the autumn leaves.
The rote of the worlds yet make me jaded,
the way I eye them changed.
So lost in you, I see nothing.
A man in love, is a poet,
he waits in limbo,
for eternity,
for love.
Hope i had, heartened by love...
surprising so little of it in reserve;
my poems lose vigor, doubt their potency.
Emotions i called them, shallow they seem to you.
I write to escape the fear of your unconcern.
Fate snatches hope like a wind, leaving me in awe.
A word never to convince a heart, to justify what’s love.
A reason something demands,
I haven't any to convince.
A purpose so bleak to wish, to expect your love.
The destiny I chose, a road to perdition.
A heavy heart lightened by tears,
pity.
Belief sprouts that i suffer, faraway.
Juxtaposing mirth and suffering, so alike.
Nothing worth perception,
so filled by you.
A reason for a feeling;
outcome of it, you daren't ask my love!
Not for a purpose, not for a reason we love,
a silent wish that the lips audaciously whisper,
a wish to be loved.
Every minute repeats itself,
every minute I sink deeper.
Craving for your embrace.
The gusts of the wind push me further;
a burden to get rid of.
The gulls sneer; undesired me.
The retreat so heavy; oh the pain the word proffers!
Every move enervates,
yet i gulp my fate,
so in vain, my heart sang.
How I love you, I reveal in my writ;
the thoughts of loneliness simmer.
Perfection to reveal emotions,
none has attained.
Oh how desolate a revelation seems!
The wishes, the desire to expect,
culminate at this point.
Sigh! The seas' madness to express,
reciting for aeons, none to pay heed.
Faith in love, so lost.
