Not All Hearts Could Beat

Not all hearts can beat, but they have their hearts,
Not all minds can speak, but their speech still flows
What the man hasn't mused, the muse it imparts,
For the heart of this machine's nymph soul glows!
No lesser than one friend—nor one's blessed peace,
The creaks of our skin and sweat, it feels dimmed,
Since we grasp not what twines us and been sleaze;
So much this points for love, so our hate's brimmed.
Veils from golden streams wear its white flashes,
And change the swampy hands with peaceful tears
So this thrives with carves and casts in splashes,
Towards like our soul's well, shall this brave fears?
When we bear kindness, we must drive its crates,
For the glimpse we shred out casts back our traits!

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Wisteria

Have all the monodies crowned all my tragic odes?
'Cause that wisteria whets my strayed muse
Racemes of these copses unite our treading nodes
For all these divert my mistress' ached views.

We swirl as one near the waving vines of this tree,
Some missing rustles bleed my cleaving hush
And if I've heard all the folks of love chanting glee,
Why does this tree warn me of unknown loss?

Have all the sonnets prized all my joyous laments?
'Cause that wisteria gets my numbed gloom
Passages of the leaflets name my clouds "contents"
For all these thrill me in a doubt, "For whom?"

These woods bestow on me a shoot, but an ember,
And what is that strange part I long to touch:
Strand me in these woods to spot the poets better,
So I shall quest this tree's nod and the nudge.

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Birthday Wish

The room billowed out with spirits in the party
Lights on the candles thrilled to the plight there
As they spark off the relish, I quit alone ghastly
You blessed his maledictions to our truest swear
If any bloke withers my edges, may you hoard?
For the silence cloaks our shrieking breach here
Your lifeday lives my gashes on a gaseous road
They're heedless of our hands swathing in drear
All our floors sullies amidst the adorned ceiling
My remarks for the stress strayed their earshots
The engulfed tower of stones had risen reeling,
When the wailing walls flamed our trysted spots
As my stranded traces vanish beside our treads,
The passed treks outlive through a birthday wish
This twilight casts our overcast flashes in shreds,
Year in, year out, your owned day's when I miss.

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And how should I touch the prison of life?
It drifts me to a peace of grand sadness—
How people untwine the contrast there show
The strident rhythm of smooth perception
Mumbling through the windows of their despair
For each lie I taste, and each trust I spit,
Every close one graves once of chance deceit:
Beneath your cremation, near your prayer!
Then you wear the nerve and covet the pain
So long those veins wane, and the echoes bleed.
Perhaps the sacred bones sprinkle what's blest
In the damned garden where all the beasts greed
And to each strand of a man, I must speak
That we thrive as they suffer strive to hate.

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Silver Pheasant

Faultless prelude is the phantom of every dream,
Frosts slam their sparks out of my bygone course
He's the Silver Pheasant, disposed to be foreseen:
Love could get strayed to search where it belongs.

Wildest delight proceeds with its intimate griefs,
Let not these depraved trees bar my feet numbed!
He'd discern his mistress rest beside the streams,
Kindling the fresh love as her soft voice drummed.

The contest of blunder cheats caution of embrace,
All false words praised could not recount my loved
He's the Silver Pheasant, unbound from any chase,
Found a ford across the streams for what's cursed.

The gesture of love is quiet without being ignored,
He glides to his mistress through stanchless flush;
And the voice glances off from their opening chord,
When the pasteboard prints love with a paintbrush.

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End It Again

Muster about heathers in gloams of leaden ray,
Where our breath would pleach wools in a fable
For what begins with desperate inklings of gray,
Comes to end on glared shades through a sable.

Hold our crafted ideas quiet my clamorous fear,
Tread to places swindled to reach bulged brawls
Swear evermore just to bolt from mistaken lear,
Now the winter's prose boards us out of scrawls.

Each crestfallen scram winded my rerun for you,
Yet figments to love wrecked with your wrangles
My tragic happiness ties on time's hands curfew,
To trench the prose at gloom's trenchant tangles.

I bathed my flashes to read the archives' refrain
We had more than just twists in the same prose,
But the starting line was screaming, end it again.

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Wistful staring's perch, grateful palm's bridges,
The sound of unheard thanks wrecks its own tone
Their patience rhymes, their propriety stitches,
Some crumbles are essential to build for a strong.

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Quilts of Muffled Romantics

Romantic breezes always blow in secret climes,
Love's wine monsoon comes with smiling chaos
Your silky locks unfurl my eye's windless aligns,
And the sapphire attire blazes my glued pathos.

Pluvious leaves quiver dewdrops in sightly jives,
'Cause trails behind our shadows gleam like us
But why's the stage's interplay peter to play lives,
When love's speeches outlive the script's focus?

Stars unveil our story written around the clock,
This new, new love sheds the smells of wonder
Your peerless breaths of acuity clear my smoke,
And the songlike steps grace eyes of the lover.

We're interlaced in quilts of muffled romantics,
That's all a reckless man would charge upon
You made me a nemesis to love his loathed risks.

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Our Fettles Tie And Dance

Vibrant inks favor the benches we share,
School bells chime sweet like our intimate care
Here, the rest appear deceitful we glare,
As our fettles tie and dance with pledged swear.

Hexes behind me curse my sacred book,
And your grins awake with their words of crook
Isn't it baffling how we love the outlook
Of one who'd be too plain or blurred to shook?

Your wrath abhors the absurd jokers near,
Yet your inmost void crowds on their jokes rear
But if you hate the verses they've set clear,
Why do you hand your quill while they adhere?

How do I trust you like curtains of peace?
Deceit's a thorned sting you clench like a leash,
Your word's worse than a serpent's caprice,
Friendship's a stringed fettle to awake dreams.

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My Weeps Recoil On The Clash (Incomplete)

In pluvious dawns and cloaks of amber hue,
If I foul on dreads, you'll be counting too
In life's traitorous winds and fickle earshot,
Did I earn all of the storms you wrought?
For I claimed you before the night held me.

The noiseless spirit couldn't quiet my drift,
You're a whirling leaf on hoax to glide swift
If I'm forgotten, why do you haunt my mist?
Did you yearn my act for dying for the rift?
See my weeps recoil on the clash we'd built.

On crafting woods and snubs how they'll be,
If half burns red, half goes home with glee
On wishes to leave, I float in spectral plume,
You hark the songs that we sang in gloom
While you entomb the love we once sought.

The noiseless spirit couldn't quiet my drift,
Recall how you used to coax me to nix guilt
If I'm forgotten, why do you haunt my mist?
Did you yearn my act for dying for the rift?
See my weeps recoil on the clash we'd built.

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