Beautiful words inspired by my notebook

[SuicidalSymphonies]

In barren room of solemn vocation
Rests an uncovered tome subtly caressed
In the hues and shades of lamentation
Its pages bittersweetly inked and kiss'd


The pale sunlight through a lonely window
Traces fingers over pen cross'd cover
Designed for a time to house the sorrow
Of purpose obscured in tranquil slumber


'Til the hour struck in melancholy
Fell chimes sending scripted wings aflutter
Rejoicing over life's greatest folly
Raucous tumult into silence settles


In farewells utter'd faint glimpse of greeting
Whose woeful touch belies chancest meeting

@WhiteDespair

Thank you for this. Beautiful...

 

[Stan]

I always liked this poem from the film Four Weddings and a Funeral.

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

W.H. Auden

 

[SuicidalSymphonies]

I always liked this poem from the film Four Weddings and a Funeral.

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

W.H. Auden

Oh wow. That hit me pretty hard. What deep wording and expression.

 

[Stan]

Oh wow. That hit me pretty hard. What deep wording and expression.

Not a big fan of poems, but when I see one that is clear, understandable and I resonate with- then they are classics. My sadness comes from knowing that nobody in my life would stand over my coffin and say those words with any degree of sincerity.

 

[SuicidalSymphonies]

Not a big fan of poems, but when I see one that is clear, understandable and I resonate with- then they are classics. My sadness comes from knowing that nobody in my life would stand over my coffin and say those words with any degree of sincerity.

I feel the same way. Especially the person I love the most and can't seem to let go of those feelings even though we've cut ties. At least I'll die knowing love.

 

[WhiteDespair]

You're welcome.