Ultimas Lagrimas

My poetry is known to be pathetic

The stanzas are far beyond lyrical

My voice fills the heart with sorrow

My eyes are blind to see a brighter tomorrow

My heart is filled with your regrets

An empty soul is all your bringing

My path following a lonely pattern

My isolation is aftermath

My meaning of living is very nil

My hunger can never be filled

My purpose in life is unknown

My insight can never be shown

My emotion will always be dry

My own being, no sense of faith

My spirit prepared to be knocking for nothing

My presence is never expected

My true sense of peace is not impacted

My only true friend is misery

My love is caged, and never to be free

My hope was never born

My motivation was never worn

My settlement has been broken

My secrets left behind as the unspoken

My end has arrived at it’s near

My heart feels no fear

Now I’m about to die

A warm liquid falls from my eyes.

Grey Hair - MGS

image from google

You did not mind, but people minded,
A silver crown, in sunlight shined,
You did not care, but people noticed,
Whispers of wisdom, quietly floated.

You don’t check, but people looked,
In every strand, a story booked,
You hid them, colored them,
Yet still they gleamed, like stars at night.

You hide, but definitely, they showed up,
Each one a sip from life’s rich cup,
Grey hair is not a defeat,
But pieces of experience, bittersweet.

Be proud, for every grey hair,
It’s piece with dreams, and paths you’ve been,
A story of laughter, love, and tears,
A testament to the beauty of life.

So let them shine, let them be free,

Let them showed by people around
A badge to honor, a shout of your legacy,
As today embraced your journey with your grey hair.

A Poem from Someone from a DISTANCE.

Before, she was at every table,
Meals, parties, raised voices over wine.
Sky's the limit, "Her friends loved to hear from her"
They called her, they wanted her.
Parties, gatherings, every occasion she's the highlights,
Her hands were useful, her stories relevant.
The talk of the town... always have the entry,
The nights are not complete without her presence,
Her laughter had its place, Her smiles mattered.

And then slowly... the invitations slowed down.
Not all at once,
No...
It's more discreet than that, the distance.
Friends think of her... but afterward.
They talk to her just a work matter,
HI's... HELLO's before often, now seldom,
They love her, of course... but from afar.

So, she stopped waiting for them to make room for her.
She started making her own,
laughter, smiles, tears, and stories
She set the table for herself,
put on the table cloth, napkin, candle, and wine.
She gave herself flowers, a chocolate,
not to decorate but to thank herself for still being there.

At workplace, she walk slowly through the corridor,
at lunchtime, she choose to stay in her cubicle,
At market place, she walk slowly through the road alone,
she shop on her own, enjoy the things on her own,
She bought dress, jewelry, shoes, and perfume,
she picked vegetables and bread,
She invite herself into the day, into the air,
into the glowing lights and the freshly ambience of her house,

She's no longer invited everywhere.
But at home she find silence.
She's no longer sitting in other sofa,
But she's indeed comfortable in her armchair.
She's not drinking a glass of wine with friends,
But she's excited by a cup of tea.

She's no longer invited to everyone, to everywhere,
But she invited herself into her own life
And she's good there, she's happy...
really happy.