November Wordsworth

 I met you my moon underneath shadows of a noon where windy chills calm to room cluelessly, I traded betrothal for doom a bequeath in a boom like ka boom a little bit too soon. Just like a full moon you killed not the dark, but unveiled the beauty of the night shining your glistening glimmer overflowing in ornaments and incenses we traded whispers for whimpers. Tons of giliter added over beauty in it's immenseness when I had not a thing to offer before a taste of the flavor of your lips I gave a heart away for collateral battered for an apple of an eye. As time goes around the clock hours fold into days, days of a moon gone to hiding behind the clouds apples turned into onions of eyes after dusk in the sharpest of nights where the brightest of stars never shines. Like a candle that melts down to wax blown by anxious winds in the night a river of tears streams down my cheeks like logs split by axe blades of steel I can feel something inside me shatter  and the pieces of that thing s

 Ostensibly, it all feels like; "I've known voices of the wind  and maybe all it's journeys,  it's melodies of melancholy that ears may never hear  blowing passed blooming faces of those who only feel it's soothe but not the inconsolable sobs it carries on from faces of those  who can't even remember how  and when they last smiled, those to whom happiness is just a dream." I've got great feelings, of acquaintance with  every falling droplet of rain,  vehemently hiting the ground  splitting into thousands of  other splashes of driblets and all the autumn leaves floating on waves of headwinds  I feel every single pain in their voices  on their journeys set for demise I find my self reciting rythimic surahs into melodic euological verses,  for the friends gone too soon.  With no moon, I'm stuck in my own realm nary a wanning crescent  with a bunch of wistful emotions cracking tales down told by burning flames whispering to their smoke yet though shini

If I can't make flowers bloom move mountains neither heal what's broken then what can I do in this life indeed, what this life is all about am I yet to find out. Far along the prairies below beneath the esthetic state of the art aquariums among frothing bubbles over the Nile's bed What could this life really be intended for blossoms and wilts or birth and demise what this life is all about I am yet to find out. We walk along uncertain certainties sure of nothing  but quietus today tomorrow  or someday what this life truly all about Am I yet to find out? Where do we really belong high in the skies among the stars or  below under the earth three feet in a wooden box whatsoever this life is all about I doubt if I'll ever find out. november  (the black poet) *woes of sombre hearts* ©2023

 I am a flying kiss, swaying in mid-air, like pieces of paper plane torn up all too well, by winds blown and known,  only to the autumn leaves  in essence of innocence on a blind unknown trip, searching for a lip to kiss. Like butterflies for flowers, Along alleys and hallways over mountains down the hills, for you, I am head over heals your where and how abouts  breaking nuts and untying bolts rounding around roundabouts hoping to find you some day.  May be someday, sands will sink down the kink, when the characters of my ink will fade along with, streams of my tears the day my clock will stop at the wishes of farewell when I'll find her lips,  drop down dead and gone. I'll be gone,  never to come back,  In tears and sorrows for the deepest of tears  not those shade from our eyes and cover our faces but, those that stream out of our hearts and cover our souls. november  (the black poet) *woes of sombre hearts* ©2023

Taken a series of stapes one after another synthesized along soothed string pricks synchronies of acoustics adeptly orchestrated early upon once a prick later upon a discernment.  A touch of your strings dwadles over my mind for your charisma I fall with tingles of euphoria  like a shooting star make me walk on rainbows beyond horizons and among mermaids make me swim for by your tunes I live on. Curtains rolled up shut silenting a lingering night in a darkness so sharp like the strum of a harp love is a lush harmonica played at the cast of a wish so once will I hear the melody  then so will I sing along. Don't you ever dare, to stop cause I don't wanna care if we never get to wake or if at all it's a dream I pray we dream more and more often to unravel  all that's left of the sensuals we yet are to discover. november  (the black poet) *whispers of love* ©2023

 Lingering among the amorphous, like winnowed wuthering husks, in the essence of a night's silence I ponder over what life has to offer, what it may take just as a scoffer, over mountains and across lakes  along lengths of long rivers along what's that, that life may offer,  perhaps that, it may wish to savour. At twilight's glance,  merriment may prevail,  apricity may kiss the night good night and may be the sun may wipe tears shaded along a journey from dusk to dawn where sorrow may find it's way after dark, the sun may rise the land may switch to a new song yet not so long, all may be gone for soon it's set, yet to set on the other side of the brigde along the shores of a lake of tears. One on one with the unfathomable, once lone, alone in the dark after dark facing the reality of life's darkest mares, along with the devil to the hades I quest for clues to mysteries untold in the land of the dead and the gone chasing after the demons in my mind scared of eve

That was me, not my twin brother defeated among thrills  of your thrift, that sparing way you spend your love for me, withal extravagantly for her. You turn me on along with all that I'm insecure about my anxieties and, the fear of the unknown as I see you here,  you make a whole bunch of blood run to my face once again,  over and over again. It's one hard thing to find  that someone you love to love some one your heart may skip beats for someone- for whom you may wide awake in the middle of the night, to ponder over and think all over,  once again, and more all over again.  A hard thing to find someone who truly loves you, that one someone  who finds perfectness in every snippet of your perfect imperfections someone to miss you, even when gone a split second  or an inch away from your lips. Some other rare thing to find, someone that loves you one that you surely love too a love story so rare where synchronous hearts may beat among hearts yet once fallen asleep, your eyes may

There is,  the journey of our life, starting once upon a day a day you hold a key out, open a door to let,  wholesomeness of radiance in. Like a shooting star  radiance is a new smile,  enwrapped up in emotions  amorously state of the art, a bond so thick so unbreakable unmistakably imperishably pure, a touch only unstoppable,  just wanna feel right now. My love for you,  is a virgin virgo sun, risen ahead of the equinox, never dimed, eclipsed a sun never to fade, set not to set,  forever never to die. Touched by, lunar blue chroma flares of amaranthine radiance, calm at night rest, virtuous lips tranquil like a celestial nymph alay, sunken down deep under neath, your surreal nocturnal excursions. There it is a  journey with no remorse, least chances of reverse, sticking to the plan, just sit back and relax, stay where you are, just stay here with me, unfold what we are best at, that's loving each other for we were made for each other. In the rear is our passed, dappled in exuberan