Pragmatism

Romance

It happened every time,

Every time he saw her, he brought back with him something larger than hope.

The silent whispers of nothing, he sought them,

The careless strands, the dance of those eyes,

He owned them. He wanted them. The mad desires.

 

On a painless night, amidst the stabbing ash,

When the crisp wind hit his face like a splash,

He knew the Done. The Inevitable. The graceful script of Fate or what you will.

He saw the crevice, as he took a step, through the wisp of lost smoke.

 

With every word, the desired raindrops fell,

Every time she moved her lips, his trembling earth before her melted,

The Muse herself fell short of words, when she stumbled upon her soft cheeks,

And the skies but bent their force, when they heard her music.

 

It happened every time.

Every time he passed the storm. The storm of her existence.

The storm of her drowsy dreams.

The open skies held something larger than hope,

The silent and soothing hope.

Reviews

[Leviari]

I guess my reviews are repetitive, but what else can I say if not that this is absolutely beautiful? There's so much devotion and admiration in this piece, so emotional.
"It happened every time,
Every time he saw her, he brought back with him something larger than hope."
Terrific incipit.

[Siddhartha Chatterjee]

Many thanks!

[emipoemi]

.......I have no words......my voice is in my awe!! Well freaking done!!

[John Alexander McFadyen]

This has a huanting melody to it Sid. A forlornness as he is captivated by this bewitching woman. Told in deft detail as the weather, wind and rain are used to express feeling and sensations in a well crafted poem.