Reminder

'I should have known you would still be here,' I heard him then. I turned to face him, and I hoped he would show compassion to my sensibility. Indeed, he did not frown upon my tear flooded face, nor did he try to remove the pained bundles that were no longer waiting for his soft fingers. Instead he surrounded me in a warm embrace.

History

Upon relating to the younger ears

a glory

Long gone by, replying with

unheeded charms

The lips injure the heart;

Is there reason for this blameless child

to profess attention where it should not be

And what point is there to remind

of past intentions and

old impressions!

And not only that one does not wish

to throw perils upon a gifted mind

but also one simplifies the facts--

and this I solely fear that

hardens the junior heart

with thoughts of upcoming danger

and careless affection and false joy

to hear the evil's been removed

but originally trusting the mind

that concluded on the very path;

Not unfeeling then it is

when one spares the word for it

simply cancelling the years

(for what are they but some

pointless dreams and cruel reminders--)

and with virtuous simplicity announces

what has been once

and with real trust

the young one acknowledges the past.

Vow

Sire,

I want no longer thy immediate return

Instead I humbly cherish a soft fire that shall burn

And at that peaceful hour thou art set against me

Be it in my shameful power that I then will find thee.

I vow to endure whatever silver and whatever gold

I vow to carress everything warm and everything cold,

So with a touch I know where thou art at the time

And if, with ages, thou shall again be mine.

For what do I gain from leaving thee run free

And what sense does my word contain as it be

Hath my eye lost a strength of which I was in need

And doth I speak alone or perhaps dost thou heed?

Gone is everything, beyond the insolence I feign

But thy distinguish is good, and well thou are sustained

But then again, thou dost not care for my solitary sake

For why then did thou not care about the heart to break?

Remembrance

He noticed how I ran my fingers over each book, though he did not make his thoughts known. Everything he did I would question, and not once had I given up without a word from him. How come then that he failed to find interest in my  actions? Had I no power over his mind, was my conduct childlike? Was he that unmindful whenever I did something that I thought would catch his eye, moreover if I did it on purpose?

'You shall never ask, I guess.'

'What about?', he said daringly.

Ways

Wonderless statements, your inaptly used tone
Uncontrived points, a shallowly given loan
Declaredly odd, simply forever unknown
Tenderly agressive, you remaining alone
Reluctantly mellow for words of your use
Disgustingly narrow for dreams to abuse
Exposed as the path for you ere to choose
White secrets wittingly too blank to refuse
Merrily sad, to the baneful frown's content
Too common the sound to have been lent
Otherwise outrageously too sharp to repent
Proudly blown to pieces to a great extent
Nothing whatsoever of the highest claim
Prior to anything but of the poorest name
Too delightful a core to attend the chain
Linked to eternity, the silvery stars to feign.

In Stealth of Reasoning

My power great and my strength sublime
And it is rather easy to rob what is not mine
And the remainder to hide with a face so fine
And ideas so thrilling in so frozen a mind.
For the credit to be done, little but I cared
For meaning to provide, nothing's been spared
What you wrote I read and placed it somewhere
You would never find my reason so unfair.
Behind what has been wrongly taken from you
Still dwell pieces, though they are barely few
Parts of your mind's labour, which I thought so new
And I made them old, my pen their rescue
But what sort of rescue, mind me not;
I cannot tell your purpose in the game
But one matter I am sure in thought
That my inspiration in you I've sought.
I have no concern whatsoever
Whether you find it rude or decidedly dull
For my writing to live I needed you never
For had you been another, my poetry's sound
Would have had the same power to astound.

Blameless?

Say the word and I'll open the door for you,
But if you mistake my address and knock
At the one you see near mine, which is finer
And more suitable to a princess, as you take me for
And if you receive no answer, but stay calm and wait for me
To come out and look upon you
I will never forget the day.

And if I at last hear your voice outside
Calling my name, but for another set of ears to hear
I will blame you forever for your misfortune
And just like this, I'll disappear
Behind my constant wall of ice
Which you cannot see through, for it is made
So as intruders do not see;
And if you at last say your apology,
My eyes will remind you of my own faults.

For when you spoke, you did not speak good
And this I saw too well, so I misunderstood
Everything you showed me; and then I spoke my words
And I spoke them brilliantly and you gave me the rewards
I had been hoping for.
But then again, your mistakes I noticed,
and mine were but too weak in nature
As to be observed by my infatuate mind.
But then again, you were in my eyes a failure
But I had always been a worse foe
To everyone; alas, no one ever saw.

Reminiscence

'What happened to your time?', asked I, as I noticed that his watch was ticking in reverse. He stared at me in wonder, and then he saw I was holding it. He came to me hurriedly and took it away, hiding it in his palm. 'It is not like I want it to be so; it just does not work properly.' And his amber eyes began to peruse me, but he did not smile.

'Oh, well. It is not like I care...' I added, looking for my way out.

'You should...' he said calmly, at last smiling.

'I'll go,' I said with a frown.

You!

'I do not want to force my destiny.'
But what if it is done already?
Then I cannot pretend to know it,
Nor can I imagine
The humor in your voice when you say it
How ironic you point out my flaws
When you remind me of my claws
Around your neck, each and every time
you made a mistake.
'I do not need your objections.'
But you wouldn't listen,
Because you were sick of everything I was
And to you...
Well...
I was nothing, and ever since I opened my eyes
To your childlike attempts, which you call your disguise
Oh, no, even more, you are proud to hide in lies!,
Well, ever since then, I remember each day
The promises you never made, but I did for you;
and if I cannot forget you, you'll never forgive me.
My shards of a somehow forgotten memory
Have cost me more than I could ever count.
But you retreated in my mind's darkest depths
And
I have to pull out
everything
from its strand
just to reach
where
you
now stand.

Well...

I can't write well, for my writing is not ancient
But I can write, for words I am acquainted with
They have meaning, still not one so good
As to make you respond to my enquiry
But if I had the bravery, or at least spare the time
To say a pleasing word, so you can hear it
Well, I would not, for it is my thoughts that count here
And then... well, you do not have consequence
in the end.
For me, the least to say is that I would not write better
For, alas, I cannot write well, but my words do make sense
And perhaps they are stolen from a better mind, that is
An ancient mind, hundreds of years gone by,
Had I the right to call your bluff, as you do to me -
How I would question your opinion, dear friend!
I am angry at myself, but at you I am more;
For you dismiss my poetry, but pretend you write better
But the affection is mutual, therefore I entreat you
to show greater talent on the literary path
Ars poetica you cannot call this
For I never did intend to pour this onto your head.
I wanted to write about subconscious truths,
Of which you know already. But this thread,
This rope you grasp in desperate need of fame
Is your inferiority, which cannot bear another name.
Had you been of a different kind, I would have let you be.
But you do not write well, so you are just like me.

Reasoning

I unwillingly lengthened the introduction into her world, so as to see the place she had among the society. However, she never truly deserved it; she had no excellent skills, apart from the piano-playing, and she knew nothing but to complain forever when she had not the right to. Miss Adele Evans, therefore, is my tool, in my quest to show you, absent reader, that not every glorious and fulfilling beginning has an ending to match. Perhaps you expected a fairytale to pass the time, but I have failed you in every respect. It truly was not my intention to arrange the story the way it is now, for I admire happy endings and I love my heroines - it stays not in my way to lend them plain lives, but this is how my thoughts proceeded.

Unsuccessfuly have I tried to find a way back, but it is tiring. I am sorry. I unconsciously failed your expectations, but I have not lived that long as to know whether happy endings happen to girls like Adele. It is my fault, my doing, as I once said.

Lie

I shall not motivate myself,
Nor will I pretend to persuade you
To adopt my thoughts, for it is theft
But to the sharpest minds.
Theft of the strangest kinds,
You say, for why should you be late
In time, when you could be late now?
Moreover, I have not an answer
Ready to please your appetite
For odd enquiries, and even if
I had a point to tell, why would I
If mistaken is all I could possibly sell?
But then, there is my duty to entertain
The slightest ambition for you to surpass --
Anything but justice is what you fight for
But words will never fail to become
Your weapon in all wars, all the more
If your condition is greater than some
Others... but again, if I have the quest
To let you pass the gates, and forbid the rest
I will always pull the gates open
So thus you will find that your person
Has had a greater impact on mine,
Whereas your lips will never lie to the time.

Voluntarily Disposed

I was
Voluntarily disposed
To seek your attention
and cry at its absence.
but your memory, once warm and twice cold
has left me in reluctance
against myself, and even if I'd been told
that you would never be my dream
I still bellow at myself, in horrid frost
that you have forever and a day been
what I needed but did not have the most.

You were
Voluntarily disposed
To spare me if you must
and never indulge me with the cost
of your heartfelt kindness
but still I do think a thought hopeless
in itself - fiendishly impaling
my mind still to you was failing
I still bellow at myself, when in the dark
Why were you bestowed such power to mark
Just one or two
thousand lives turned down for you?--
In deception I stood then, and I turn my head
To face presently your shadows, to which I'm led;
In concern you never laid, whereas thither I slept
For your welfare hundreds of thoughts I kept.

You and I were
Voluntarily disposed
To change our lives to betterment
Though you pretended your judgement
Superior to everybody's - I did thus too
Mine was a better conscience,
You were hollow, meant only defiance
 I did not know, but this I can conceal--
But you searched forever for a better appeal
And in the shallow world you pretend to possess
There is no hope for me to address
Myself to your person, but this I'm aware
Yes, this I know well... and this I can bear!
But your scorn, never will I cope to fight
My army as it be, try as I might.

We were
Voluntarily disposed
To at once let go of each other
By your will only, for had you not bothered
To turn away from me, I would have learnt to be
Much more than I was then, but maybe
I still had a great lesson to be taught
The lesson that your leaving then brought
But this is how I learnt to seek
No one's attention, so thus I know to speak
For myself, without your doubts involved
Nothing I know now have I been ere told.
You were the notion of what I wished for most
But never have you been the one I wished lost.

My Reply

In your judgement,
Perhaps never will there be a better soul
You think
I should have never stolen your favourite role
And you demand
That I give up flying over all
But I whisper
Truth has not taken yet its toll.

In your judgement,
I know I am a leaf searching for my tree;
You think
I have more days granted than I really need
And you demand
That I hear your whispers in the wind
But I tell you
It is too hard for me to listen through this din.

In your judgement,
My enemy's the snow so I won't last long
You think
That I cannot discern the right from the wrong
And you demand
That still I am attentive all along
But I yell at you
You have sung your last song.

In your judgement,
Many souls will vanish in the ground
You think
There's not one that won't hear your sound
And you demand
That everyone should be always around
But I cry my heart out --
You're like a pocketwatch that's never been wound!