Dim lights, pencil and a paper
And the music which completes me.
Calling unto words of amber,
Aching for a touch of sacred,
Painting feelings—notes and poems
Of another world—forever.
All I am, two joys colliding:
Love for poetry and music.
Painting tremor, vibrant spirit,
Oasis is the written canvas;
Echoing through my whole being,
Tender notes are born, igniting
Yes, I yearn for words and music.
I went back to the beginning,
I have found myself again.
This is the post excerpt.
I started playing the piano as a child and, later on, I also learned how to play the flute. Music eventually led me to poetry, the music of words, and I’ve been exploring their worlds ever since.
I feel alive when I do so, discovering myself piece by piece. And I feel happy. 🙂
If I am happy, I turn to music and to poetry. If I am sad, I do the same thing. This also goes for the times when I feel depressed, full of anxiety, grateful, excited, content, calm, stressed, or relaxed. Whatever the emotion I feel or the emotional state I am in, music and poetry are my way of unwinding and of remembering who I am.
The notes and the words collide, the worlds of music and poetry collide, creating harmony in my soul. And that is when I feel alive. Pure bliss.
I’d given up the wishes regarding my own story
And I thought I’d at least be the person I had bettered,
That’s all that I still wanted: to still have my chore values,
Which I’d attained through hardships and years of self-improvement.
I thought that I’d at least have the old me to fall back on,
Since I had tried and failed to face so many fears.
It seems, though, that I’m meant to experience oblivion
Whenever I’m about to define my new-found features.
Forget what I had wanted—I’ve lost touch with my true self,
And now I’m in a daze and can’t seem to find my way back.
I call out in the tempest, but all my cries are muffled…
The teller of my story has long ago been silenced…
I first heard them when it was night
And I’d grown weary of the struggles,
And just when I’d given up the fight,
I heard a whisper like no others.
Melodious and tender words
Made their way through the endless darkness,
Caressed my ears and I immersed
Myself in their most calming promise.
The winter wind had brought them here
And carried them on wings of stardust.
The moon had gifted them with light
To soothe and ease the soul till sunrise.
And in the peaceful winter night,
I knew I’d found my peace, my freedom.
I rose my eyes and saw the moon
So quiet and serene in her kingdom.
And in the darkness of the night,
I only heard the soothing whispers,
I only saw the phantasmal light
Of She who’d sent me peace in winter…
I wish that I could be a better version
Of the reflection that I’m looking at,
A better human, oh, a better version
Of the dark eyes staring right back
I wish I could support you, whom I treasure,
I wish that I could have much better words,
Better reactions and much better gestures
To comfort you when you need it the most…
I wish I knew the right time when to hug you
And when to let you be just by yourself…
My timing’s not the best and this has harmed you…
I’m sorry for not doing better… I’ll suppress
I wish I could express with words what I am thinking,
But words have failed me almost every time,
And I say things which sound so superficial…
To my own mind I’ve let them be confined,
Without their real shape and meaning…
I wish… I wish… I wish I could do better
And offer you the comfort and support
Which you deserve… I’m sorry I am lacking…
I wish… I’m sorry… You deserve,
Oh, so much more…
I had forgotten what it felt like
To just enjoy a sunny day,
Amidst the tumultuous events that
Capture me in their claustrophobic cage.
To truly feel the rays of sunlight
Caress my skin and make me whole,
To forget all the endless worries
Which I’d otherwise have to endure.
I had forgotten: teenage freedom…
Those days when I lived in the now,
Without many fears of the future,
Of who I am, if I’m endowed
With enough strength to persevere,
With patience or humility,
Of what will come in the next two years,
Of how much I will change… Oh, dear…
I had forgotten. It feels amazing
To simply have a moment like this.
A peaceful afternoon with sunshine
To remind me of such rare a bliss…
So, here I am, bathing in sunlight
At twenty-two. Nostalgia, peace…
Well, what do you know? Embracing this, I
Forget the depths of the abyss…
I sometimes stop to think and wonder
If what I write truly has meaning,
If what I am can be redeeming,
If you can get what I am thinking,
If my thoughts sound to you like thunder:
Passing and never understood.
Sometimes, my poems seem to struggle
To find the right path through the darkness,
To reflect my thoughts—such poor a harvest,
To come to me when I need guidance,
To be what I’d meant them to resemble,
And to exist in the real world.
I sometimes feel like I don’t matter,
Like I am average, just a child,
Like I know nothing about life’s trials,
Like I’ve no meaningful words—in denial,
Like I’m not worthy of the letters
Which I write down for eyes to see…
Simply a poet’s poem.
On a peaceful winter morning,
While all nature was asleep,
Winter fairies found their calling
In the mountains with steep peaks,
With the never-ending forests:
Trees so lofty, scent so green,
Where the tired soul could find rest
And lay down to breathe and dream.
Snowflakes listened to their calling
And descended upon Earth,
Graceful butterflies resembling,
Having just known their sweet birth.
On the fir trees still grew green moss,
Entangled with the bright white
Of the soft blanket which covered
All of nature, day and night.
On a peaceful winter morning,
While silence governed the land,
Winter fairies found their calling,
One which promised freedom that lasts.
For the soul yearning for quiet,
This magical, hidden world
Was all that they could desire…
Peace, contentment, freedom, hope…
“New year, new me” has always been the motto,
With everyone making their resolutions,
Yet nothing really seems to come to that conclusion
And all are left forgetting what they’d wished for.
Because it’s easy: making wishes, dreaming…
But working for one’s goals is never easy,
And thus, they set themselves up for the failure
Which leaves them feeling unaccomplished, guilty.
“New year, new me” cry superficial hashtags,
Behind them hiding the need for validation.
New year, new you… So, where’s your motivation?
Oh, right. It’s just a trend. A sad and passing—old—fad.
New year, same you—but only on the inside,
While time has trapped your body in its tight cage.
New year, new year… Careful, the clock is ticking
And all your deeds may leave you feeling empty…