Thursday, May 8, 2008


The quill occupies
a quivering hand,
animates my thoughts.
Justice not done.

A distended heart cries,
to you it sounds
like another sound,.
The melancholy, unheard.

Each time you slip,
off your contour,
I blush.
A weakness disclosed.

Memories, soured
by stipulations,
You struggle to forget,
Wounds re-exposed.

For the unattainable,
I try,
And never tire,
Perseverance assessed.

My pain, never shared,
scrutinized by
your reproachful eyes,
Condolence missed!

Day by day,
I age.
The dead parts wither.
I wait.

Wait for the tears to taste sweet.


  1. superb GOLDHAWK. very good....keep it up:)

  2. "quivering hand," plenty of emotions conveyed by a few words, extremely mature choice of framing a short sentence."to you it sounds
    like another sound,." a direct conclusion, powerfully depicted.
    "blushing had been compared as a weakness, another mature selection of phrase."
    "For the unattainable,
    I try,
    And never tire," optimism par excellence.
    "My pain, never shared," sounded like a vengence which can be the base of something positive to some... a motivational pull from within again.
    "I wait.

    Wait for the tears to taste sweet." a remarkable ending... amazing way to put up the thoughts again!! i loved this... will surely stay with me for a long time!! keep it up!! very impressive