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Literature Text
It was a happy ending,
yet happy it was not.
Inscribed through heartless and decayed
processions of horrid crusades,
like tales of love and truth betrayed;
it holds no happy thought.
What of the happy ending
the poet himself despised?
With saccharine expressions brewed -
such vivid tales of love accrued,
what breathless literature construed,
riddled in mocking lies.
What mournful happy ending
though cherished it may seem
that serves a purpose solely vile;
constructs by one all through defiled,
such deeds that led him to exile
conjuring wicked schemes.
It was a happy ending
one written oh so well.
Yet dreams it has that still remain
like uncorked bottles of champagne
ensnared by manacles and chains
imprisoned and impelled.
What dreams oh happy ending
what fantasies you hold?
What myriad blossoms of yours
what wishes that so wish to soar
what roses that you so adore
are withering in the cold?
Your wish oh happy ending
as it appears to me
is of a grasp that grasps at him
that cracks that facade stiff and grim,
to be that tranquil hum - that hymn
that finally sets him free!
But why oh happy ending
make mockery of my life?
Remind me of a life so damned
uncannily and cruelly planned
leaving no hope unto my hands
to contemplate my strife.
So sad my happy ending
so sad is meant our fate.
Such happy endings were believed
to subsist in reality
such hopeful bearings undeceived
were shattered unto wait.
I wrote your happy ending
what forced me to indeed?
What made me think her love shall thrive
retracing it unto the sky
bringing my morose corpse to life
pardoning my sinful deeds?
It was, oh happy ending,
my fault that led my fall.
I am the culprit who despised
the very ending I devised
spending days on months to revise
each scratch of yours, each scrawl.
And so oh happy ending
shed no more tears for me!
My freedom was a wishful dream
of happy endings so supreme
they killed me and now so it seems
‘tis the only happy ending
I shall ever see.
yet happy it was not.
Inscribed through heartless and decayed
processions of horrid crusades,
like tales of love and truth betrayed;
it holds no happy thought.
What of the happy ending
the poet himself despised?
With saccharine expressions brewed -
such vivid tales of love accrued,
what breathless literature construed,
riddled in mocking lies.
What mournful happy ending
though cherished it may seem
that serves a purpose solely vile;
constructs by one all through defiled,
such deeds that led him to exile
conjuring wicked schemes.
It was a happy ending
one written oh so well.
Yet dreams it has that still remain
like uncorked bottles of champagne
ensnared by manacles and chains
imprisoned and impelled.
What dreams oh happy ending
what fantasies you hold?
What myriad blossoms of yours
what wishes that so wish to soar
what roses that you so adore
are withering in the cold?
Your wish oh happy ending
as it appears to me
is of a grasp that grasps at him
that cracks that facade stiff and grim,
to be that tranquil hum - that hymn
that finally sets him free!
But why oh happy ending
make mockery of my life?
Remind me of a life so damned
uncannily and cruelly planned
leaving no hope unto my hands
to contemplate my strife.
So sad my happy ending
so sad is meant our fate.
Such happy endings were believed
to subsist in reality
such hopeful bearings undeceived
were shattered unto wait.
I wrote your happy ending
what forced me to indeed?
What made me think her love shall thrive
retracing it unto the sky
bringing my morose corpse to life
pardoning my sinful deeds?
It was, oh happy ending,
my fault that led my fall.
I am the culprit who despised
the very ending I devised
spending days on months to revise
each scratch of yours, each scrawl.
And so oh happy ending
shed no more tears for me!
My freedom was a wishful dream
of happy endings so supreme
they killed me and now so it seems
‘tis the only happy ending
I shall ever see.
Literature
Silent Tears
Silent tears
the most
inexplicable
things
in all of this
world.
A river flows
from my spirit
as still and deep
as underground
waters
in streams
of blood
of love
and desire -
all fine things -
never to surface -
stay buried
beneath...
Here,
when a soul
weeps,
that sound
only heard
in heaven
and hell
so near
the center
and gone in
a heartbeat,
silently.
My heart
weeps
silently
into my soul
for no one
must know
the pain...
Literature
nothing lies forever
& if
we kiss
it's because I can't
find you
among the grassy ribbons
of your old zeta ego
& if I miss tongue,
teeth and cheeks
let the pavement carve
new mouths into my tights
she writes an another
poem about cigarettes
her east coast
her yerba mate
Literature
I'll Miss You
I'll miss everything about you
I will not lie, I was hurt
yet here forever I am, for you to turn to
I had felt lower than dirt.
I'll miss your unique scent
there is still an open wound
here I am giving my own lament
but I do hope your life is profound.
I'll miss you saying "I'm not tired"
you carried my heart so far
you are what I always desired
I know you'll shine brighter than any star.
Yes, I'll miss everything about you
but the time for me is now
I will become something great too
it will not matter how.
I'll miss being the one you were seeing
but you will miss something of me
something of me that was never so freeing
it is this heart
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Hello Everyone! Finally, I have written a work that has meter... well if not meter than at least syllable count consistent. It is open to interpretation It has a stanza of 6 lines (except the ending which like most of my works has a different form) with abcccb rhyming scheme and 7-6-8-8-8-6 syllable count. I quite enjoyed writing this work and it is a technical milestone for me. Of course the reader determines the rest! If I were to state the inspiration, it occurred when 
stated "I never cared much for it." with (
) on a poem of his and I wondered how a poem that is unloved by its author would feel. But the idea of course changed over the course of the writing. Oh in case you are critiquing, keep your critique without considering this statement. For those kind enough to critique this:1. Did you enjoy it?
2. What did you interpret from the work?
3. Any portion that is your favorite/ Any portion that you would like me to change?
4. General comments/improvements.
Enjoy everyone!
Comments70
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Overall
Vision
Originality Technique ImpactSorry for not going through your work sooner, I've been horribly busy. Also, a bit of warning, this is my first actual critique!
Anyways I find this piece to be rather bitter, I suppose, is the word I am looking for. It's interesting and rather different than what I usually happen upon, refreshing even. I'm rather fond of the last two stanzas in particular, though I'm afraid I can't say why.
Your great poet seems rather willing to play heavily to the whims of his audience and isn't all that happy with this willingness. He does not want the happy ending he gives his people and yet he still writes it, which I find both amusing and irritating simply because those who do not write for themselves only ever climb as high as what is set before them. He knows this, and yet...
"...My freedom was a wishful dream
of happy endings so supreme
they killed me and now so it seems
‘tis the only happy ending
I shall ever see."
he completely accepts it.
As always your wordage and phrasing is impeccable. There are very few people who can pull off poems of such length and I commend you for that ability, my friend! I would recommend perhaps sharper words or a mentioning of color to make it easier for the reader to immerse themselves into the work, if that even makes sense.
Overall I greatly enjoyed your poem and can’t wait to read more of your work!