The lines I wrote, they speak of you,
Through the voices of my reckoning fate;
In its source, my creation is true,
The words they wait for something great
You’re the source I created for you …
I write to you now, like I wrote before
I wrote for you then, I could write some more.
I thought I knew, what I had to do,
But I lost my queue when I lost you.
The blasted reality stares me down as I sit down to write to you… The broken faces of cherished past, gape at me like some deviant rush. Remember when I wrote for you? The frenzied words that made you laugh? You got them right, you always did. Now the words, they search for you… And I search for you like some madman looking for his booze. Will I never find you then? Won’t you ever come back again?
The muse she was,
My impelling start;
Of beauty, of rhythm,
And her soul, my art.
I remember the time when we first met… I will always remember it… Your look had said it all. Now the promises come haunt me every night. The memories of your smile indulge me to lose myself, this time forever.
“I write in rhyme, please be my verse”
Please lend me your curves, to shape up my words,
My rhythm, my song, my poesy …
You smiled at me and shook your head
Then, looked away and rightfully said,
“The artiste has his very own muse
So find your own and pen your tune.”
When I told you all my thoughts and I showed you my songs, the words had danced above our heads… And now they are gone and I will never search for them and I want to never look back again. And all the misery and all the pain that had once been mine and mine alone; the walk away from me just like you did. They leave me nothing… your remembrance is the only mark I bear, it stays on with me.
I pleaded and cried and held her in vain,
Only she knows, about my pain.
“Be my source, my masterful start;
You be the reason, the result, and my art.”
You smiled again and answered same:
“I am your love, but YOU win your claim.”
When I struggled with the tunes, I could hear your voice. My brush wouldn’t move my words wouldn’t come. I tried so hard my voice went hush. The silent was loud but it didn’t help me. Will my art not come back?? What am I going to do without it? My life? My soul? My all?
“Please be my music, why won’t you be?
I am going through hell, now can’t you see?”
“You have your art, I will stay true;
You’ll find your song, I believe in you.”
And then I thought I had you… The only hope which could guide me home… Lead me back to where I began. I thought I was lost forever but then I found you. Be my music, my soul beckons. You are the perfect muse. Every artiste is in love with his muse, so am I… Its just meant to be.. can’t you see? You always were, you’ll always be.
Now I wish,
I hadn’t searched at all,
I found my note,
Which brought my fall.
I looked out so much,
I sought my own song,
Then you left me,
But I played along..
You looked at me
And all you could see
Was my phantom pain…
You loved me so,
But you only couldn’t tell
I remember the night,
You wished me well,
Walked out the door…, and my life
The smile you gave, it said it all… It hurt me so, I couldn’t say… I searched for you for so long… Aren’t you going to answer my call? Be my source, my voice, my tune. I’ll write about you. You’ll see when I do. But you said “no” … the word, it shattered my world and wrecked my soul… “If you’re true to your art, you’ll find your own muse…”
Never did I guess, you were never to return
It blanked my mind, my heart it burned.
My head, it throbbed, I thought I would sink;
That night I wrote, with memories for ink.
Those words you said, it made me mad. Of course I was true and I had found you. You are my love and you are my guide… its surreal, how perfect this is. But you stuck to your word and made me cry. You were true to yourself and I lost my way.
The words they came through the wretched gate,
They came for me and answered my elongated wait.
I cried out that night, knocked out with gloom:
For how could I rest, when I’m lost … in my own room
The following days were like a blur… The only thing I saw was the smoke.. It was thick almost like the fog. I guess it made sense; there was no more light left anywhere. There was poison, there was hope, and there was agony without any hope… My tears had come out like sweat… the pain was numb but it troubled me… Something’s amiss, it was not pure bliss. My inner demon tried to look; I’ve searched enough, its time to sleep.
The sunken darkness all over again;
My wait now, has its own character;
It’s still as the silence that speaks;
Not so much life as much it’s said.
When I’m alone, I wish you stayed, ..
Just a wee bit longer.
I keep looking for you in the weary sea;
And I look up then, to find your voice;
You woke me up then, like the sun… there was too much light and it hurt my eyes. Light’s good and light is life, but the light I saw I knew was trouble. Is something wrong? Is something gone? But I had thought I didn’t have anything to lose. But I had you… If only I saw it then… You wanted to say so much but your silence got in the way… Your eyes, they always spoke for you, this time too, they did it well.
You ignited the spark, to fire my pen
Burning the memories of us, when
As sudden as the spark, I lost…
The urge to tell,
Why bother to tell tales
When your compass fails
To point towards the end
And trust me on this one,
Not knowing if you’d return
Is enough for me to put off the light…
Without a fight.
The distance hurt, the agony burnt. I had no clue if you would come back. I stared at blank, couldn’t lift the
pen. The verse didn’t call and I didn’t go. I waited midway for you to come. My hopes were dashed and I
know its sad. I had nowhere to go, my way gone bad.
Are you really back? Or is it some dream?
Which would wake me up, from the drunken stupor;
Or it seems
You’ve come to end this and sing my song;
And I know it’s you, my mind just knows
For how could you stay,
Away for so long?
Amidst this grief, I heard a whisper. Must be the pain, it often spoke to me. When I got up and reached the gates, one figure I saw, along the lines of hope. It was all smiles and it shone so bright, it made me squirm; that can’t be right? It was you on the other side, dressed as love and hope and light. I’d let you enter, but I was awed, the door flew ajar by itself.
Lots of noises in my head,
Which one of them is true?
The drunkenness now loosens its grip
You’ve come back to see me through …
I’ve come back… I’m your art because I can be muse for only you. That wretched pain that you’ve been through, they’ll come no more… Its only me. Write your music, paint your wall and I’ll be waiting for your call. I had been so wrong about our love, when I thought it wasn’t meant to be.
As I make my way to the wretched door;
But through my misery I could hear;
Half expecting, you waiting for me
Beyond the haze your tearful glee
There’s dilemma no more and there’s just hope. Our souls entwined now, by the words. The music’s heard around here somewhere, it comes close and your song echoes. The skies are now downcast no more, those purple lights at the end of road. They make me smile, yes, just like you and now I am here, yes, here for you.
So here I sit, with you in sight;
And I paint my music, it feels so right
The canvas was so white just then and now it’s changed.. The red, so bright. The burn that was, is there no more. Just your face now staring out. My painting’s you, my art, now true. Now I can claim, it has come real. The beckoning artiste, I always was and now for me, you are the muse.
The dreary dreams silently diffuse;
Now it’s just us, me and my muse.
So, come lets paint the morning sun, like we used to do in those days. My pages filled, the song is sung, my muse with me, the spirit to create.
Lightroom Poets Creative Team
We welcome your comments at firstname.lastname@example.org