Be My Love

If Fryderyk were to be my breathing friend,

then in marriage I would ask for your hand.

For better or worse in this age we are,

let the beauties unfold like tulips’ heart.

O you need not be sorry for complications,

for they are the trials of my unyielding love,

Such triumph testifies our truest affections,

bonded stronger yet our souls are.

Let me yet again throw myself,

and ask for a little chance to prove my heart.

Please allow me to lend you my arm.

So darling will you – be my love?

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Published in: on 18/02/2017 at 3:06 AM  Leave a Comment  

Silent Valentine

Let me read you this little tale,

of a lover who had to hold his tongue.

Though rest assured that he bears no ail,

for silence more truly his love pass on.

An afternoon walk of unparalleled bliss,

with unprecedented joy she filled his heart.

Life at last has brought him a kiss,

serenity draped his vulnerable cart.

The playful Luna folded her eyes,

as she winked at our harmonious stroll.

The stars danced in an unclouded night,

night breezes brushed our entwining soul.

O my dearest little muse this puzzle be told,

for five years I have since kept secret this piece.

The token of my heart you alone shall hold,

 for perhaps one day –

with half you will my yearnings appease.

Published in: on 15/02/2017 at 12:29 PM  Leave a Comment  

The Loneliness of Beauty

The void of life haunted my existence,

upon a journey for salvation I embarked.

All roads traced of beauty’s fragrance,

thus the overcoming of nihilism charted.

Beauty is in the colours of Renoir,

she whispers in the gestures most airy.

Beauty blesses those unfortunate hearts,

she seduces in the allure of my beloved fairy.

Yet still my chest seemed to fall upon itself,

an unknown emptiness gnawed at my bliss.

Artworks adorned my palatial shelf,

in desolation I savoured my glamorous abyss.

Beyond our wills our encounter graced,

our loneliness from an unknown crypt.

O let us this most cherished gift embrace,

and complete our life with a rosé script.

Published in: on 13/02/2017 at 10:49 PM  Leave a Comment  

Doubt not of my Love

Doubt not of my love dear,

for my very life on you depend.

I have save one heart I fear,

but for you her fate I do not repent.

Compare me not to others my love,

for to love is not to think one loves.

If you must test my devotion with distrust,

the pain would slowly crumble my heart.

Doubt not of my love, my muse,

for you I could suffer beyond all mortal bounds.

Please do not my affections abuse,

if you would cherish my delicate sounds.

Doubt not of your love, my life,

for by the prosaic angst you are drear.

Thus let me take you from this strife,

and show you the beauty of love – kocham cię.

Published in: on 10/02/2017 at 1:07 PM  Leave a Comment  

Withering

O take my love not for granted my dear,

for my heart is but that of a man.

The flames of ardour quivering in despair,

as your cold neglect upon her forms wear.

Unconditionally I gave you my complete self,

yet how you have abandoned my affectionate being.

I am lost in a forest of no empathy,

with the final glimpse of a hope for my humanity.

How little you cherish even my most cordial affections,

how you tread harshly on my gracious passions;

how worthless have my existence become,

when you left my fidelity in an empty canyon. 

O but you shall not bear the blames for my soul,

for you know not love nor the void in my chest.

If I am soon to be a heartless ghoul,

then let my heart be slain in jest.

***

Yet still there is hope onto which I cling,

although for all the sorrows I must swallow.

If only you would treasure this nonpareil love,

and the frailty of life under the unfeeling hollows.

Published in: on 08/02/2017 at 1:03 PM  Leave a Comment  

Angst

O never has life been so terrifying,

even for my existential craft.

I shall for each day be praying,

for your mercy upon my tender heart.

In the cold air my frame quivers,

anxiously awaiting the final grace.

All these pages I pen flutter,

for eternal bliss at your warm embrace.

Published in: on 06/02/2017 at 11:02 AM  Leave a Comment  

The Pact

Another hour of heart-wrenching pain,

nominal enemies from my conscious bane.

Grandiose benevolence of a pure affection;

elusive curses in darkness complain.

Lord above if such pact I may sign,

only if you would forever be mine!

Renouncing all my blesses if I could,

demonic dreams I would gladly find.

Etchings on a page shall serve you alone,

my masteries for you I may disown.

O so my dear you need not extol me,

night asks for your love alone.

Published in: on 05/02/2017 at 10:12 AM  Leave a Comment  

Parisian Rain

A morning with an overbearing guilt,

yet my mind cannot be redeemed of its sins.

My frail soul is at last corrupted,

by my very name to your shadows I cling.

My heart bleeds like the Parisian rain,

never cared for the gloom to refrain.

Yet her unholy beauty stirs my thoughts,

 of your torture and my unending pain.

I wish to be slay by a seraphic blade,

so that my heart is cleansed of blood.

Who is this stranger with the demonic jade,

erupting from his benevolent mask?

Yet still I pray for tomorrow’s air,

where I shall be under your adoring flair.

Our souls are bound by heaven’s will,

thus I shall wait till my mortal lair.

Published in: on 04/02/2017 at 10:22 AM  Leave a Comment  

My Muse, my Life

With each passing hour I grow colder still,

how empty foresights my arrival await.

Fleeting warmth my inanimate frill,

in jest mocks at my judgement day.

Yet a wingless angel has me blessed,

upon my weary form in dismay. 

My muse, my life! My mind is possessed!

For your sealed wings with my pulses pray.

O please my dearest blame thyself not,

for all sins are but my own cascade. 

Then my life would anyways be worth naught,

if darkness be my eventual fate. 

Published in: on 03/02/2017 at 11:30 AM  Leave a Comment  

The Final Testament

Let this stand as my final testament,

lest from now on I have no longer a heart.

A mortal soul was poisoned by lament,

from my human past I may forever part.

Unreservedly I gave my heart to thee,

yet on her frail form you carelessly tread.

How she weeps at your impetuous decree,

her fate is sealed by the shadows of dread.

Yet how regrets haunt my clairvoyant curse,

of an arctic future in which my corpse crawls on.

Yet my blood runs dry and my will withers,

perhaps, death shall grant the answers I long.

Published in: on 03/02/2017 at 1:59 AM  Leave a Comment