Sunday, 16 September 2012

Leaving a poem without a title

Leaving a poem without a title

It was Saturday when this writer made this kind of poem after listening a song and recollect the days he and his inspiration been close together as friends. However, this writer, admittingly speaking, fell in love with her only to hear her telling him as "not prepared for love."

At first, he opted to wait, but then thinking that would be nicer to stop, simply opted not to pursue all for the sake of friendship with a maiden and despite sadness, leaving her as the person behind the sketches and the one whom salvaged from worthlessness.

And as he finished his poem, this writer had left it without a title, thinking that it is worth better for the reader to read and make a title for it. Quite strange though to let himself for another to give way than to post a title for a poem he've done out of getting inspired yet he opted to leave her with her choice and instead be given a sense of respect.

Thinking that this writer once been left without any word by a once someone, and this time knowing that the maiden whom he end inspired by her presence had to leave alone and "not to think of a relationship", perhaps opted to leave yet still remains caring as a friend, with a door open for her in a certain time.

Obviously, in making that kind of poem, is this writer really inspired by her's? Or madly fell in love?

Anyways, here is the poem.

The scent of yours made me recalling
The days that we have met
The days that I can't say and nearly falling
To a beauty that can't forget

That despite I, once desperate and sank
Felt the beauty that bid thee and think of love
That Despite the tears fell into my eyes
This time springs wildflowers in a barren soil of my heart now unbound

But then once as I enticed by others to be with you
You've said "Im not prepared" and thus I appreciate through
For least worth better than leave me barren
Least the lasting friendship can't forgotten

Thinking about your pasts, and thus bid thee respect
Of giving more spaces and perhaps set her free and I lie low despite eyes near wept
I don't care about the others, nor this is not the test
She has the choice of her own, whether to have another or nevermind the rest

And in remembering every time we talk
With Carbonara and Pesto, or a potato mojo
Along with friends or perhaps we two
End up with a Toblerone for you

And in every remembering thus made me think:
Like you having distaste for green peas in every dishes
And favoring Yorkshire terriers over Persian cats
Of preferring house music and trance over rock
And loving night parties and I preferring band hangups.

Of having same likes for fried chicken and sunny side ups
Along with beer and vodka or perhaps soda for a warmup
Then with ramen with soup loaded with spice
Followed by cakes like Toblerone overload and black forest few despise

Quite strange from the days we have sought and met
From the scent of your perfume "So in love" that made me let
Move on with my senses to an unknown world as evidenced
With my works, all filled with the impression of a past revisited

And thus as the scent of yours made me still recalling
And the colour pink that is appealing
Marina, I am thankful to be a part of my life
Despite teary eyes, I am happy.