help me #poetry

my body weak

your love afar

from the abrupt chagrin of the mauvais poète

who put on paper all his ails

when spring sheds tears in the fields

help me to start a novel tale


my pulse is weak

your pulse is fast

trade winds are crying in the room

when fresh carnations our pillows stain

and shadows come my blood to drain

tell me the story of the magic dragon

who loved a princess from a fairy tale

and with the noble tones of your deep voice

help me come to life again


33 thoughts on “help me #poetry

  1. An excellent poem full of longing and great imagery! I have two particular favorite lines:

    “when spring sheds tears in the fields”


    “when fresh carnations our pillows stain”

    You have a gift with diction!

  2. Bravo bravo bravo

    Such great lines!! Mauvais poete may spill his ails on the pillow and stain it so but I say let it be so. For you, my dear G when you speak in such breathtaking metaphors, you strew blossoms in my already love-drenched heart, heralding a spring borne out of carnations wild.

    1. Aw… thank you my dear Nandita! May your love-drenched magnificent heart be free and happy forever! Ah… the mauvais poete….I can talk about that forever.

  3. I thoroughly enjoy your writing and your humble attitude toward what I consider brilliant words. I shared a link to this piece on for Pay It Forward Thursday. Keep up the fantastic work!


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