And because I'm nice I decided to share it with you guys.
Here is my depressing poetry!
I'm starting out with one that I actually didn't write this weekend--I wrote it a few months ago and somehow I still think it's okay.
If I could melt the sound of
violins
And swirl in the cello's
baritone
And add to it the heavenly
choir's din
A thousand music notes would
sing you home.
If I could take the words from
all the books
And use them to express my love
for you
That verse would leave no human
mind unhooked
No heavy heart could ever be as
blue.
I long for you in every passing
day
I sing to you whenever I am
home
I wish on stars that you would
come to stay
And I'd no longer have to be
alone.
If I could take the sparkle
from the stars
And mix it with the beauty of a
rose
And place it in a thousand
crystal jars
You wouldn't have to suffer
through my prose.
I wrote those words when I was
just sixteen
I never knew they'd ever ring
so true
Now I'm grown up and in the
space between
I think I've fallen out of love
with you.
I know this poem is going to
sound cliché
But darling, I just want you to
come home
I wait for you in every passing
day
I'm so damn tired of always
being alone.
If I could get the strength to
leave this house
And find someone who sometimes
would come home
You're often just a bad taste
in my mouth
I'd leave and then you'd be the
one alone.
This house we share will never
be the same
The love we had is cracked and
dusty, so
I cannot keep on playing this
awful game
I need to be the one to tell
you no.
So now I’m packing up my brand-new bags
My suitcase sits out in the hall at home
I’m going to leave this love that’s torn to rags
I’m going to find a place I’m not alone.
Geez. I have no idea where that came from. I remember thinking it was going to be a happy poem when I started it and then my brain was like, "NOPE. Depressingness is in!" and I wrote that.
Anyway, here's the first one I wrote this weekend. It's a rondel, a French type of poem with thirteen lines and two repeated refrain lines.
That I were in your arms again, my dear
For there it was that I was truly free
No chains or contradictions binding me
The simple safety of your being near.
Across the grass, there steps a gentle deer
Come here to greet your earthen tomb with me
That I were in your arms again, my dear
For there it was that I was truly free.
The cold ground keeps your body safe in here
But where your spirit is I cannot see
You’ve gone, you’re dead, invisible to me
So came to pass what was my greatest fear—
That I were in your arms again, my dear.
I have these two characters that I mess with in my head sometimes. For some reason I never give them happy endings: one of them usually winds up dead and leaves the other one grieving. I think I wrote this about them. (Hopefully when I actually put them in a story they can finally be happy. I quite like them.)
The next one's about them, too. It's a triolet, thirteen lines with the first, fourth, and seventh lines repeating and the second and eighth lines also repeating. Here you go.
You left me here with this, a broken heart
Your death was ere the death of my own soul
For when the kiss of Death ripped us apart
You left me here with this, a broken heart
From this, which was our home, I do depart
For never here can I again be whole
You left me here with this, a broken heart
Your death was ere the death of my own soul.
Apparently I have a thing for iambic pentameter, since all my depressing poetry is in it. I guess it's just easier for me to write for some reason.
So yeah, this weekend was a weird one for me. Not only do I not usually write poetry, let alone depressing poetry, but I also don't usually write horror stories. But guess what I started after the depressing poetry!
If you guessed a horror story, you get a prize. And if it's not too disturbing when I'm done with it, I might post said horror story here after its completion. You have been warned.
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