a poet's thoughts, condensed

[maxim,]

this is just what comes into my mind. feel free to interpret them however you wish, it's more fun that way ( :

please do not post on this thread: however! please please do dm me if you have any suggestions, feedback, or simply want to tell me what you thought about one of my poems, what you liked / which one was your favourite. i've only just recently started writing poetry so any criticism/feedback would help massively.

[maxim,]

his eyes are blue like the ocean.
a mesmerising deep blue.


blue like the sky; like when stars are glittering above.
blue like a beautiful sapphire.
you could see the galaxy in his eyes. he's stunning.

he's elegant in every way.


but his heart is stone cold.
cold as ice. cold as the concrete on a rainy day.


so why do i still feel this way?

[maxim,]

i received a letter,
its laced with red ribbons and a heart on the front

it feels delicate in my hands. it compels me and draws me in.
i open it.
the handwriting is in calligraphy;
the words are perfectly strung together.


it's perfect.

[maxim,]

the sun beautifully compliments the light blue sky;
filled with dancing clouds. they float by, every once in a while.
they're carefree.

the waves are calm, they splash back and forth.
they have let go of all worry.

but night falls.
and it crashes.
and now the clouds have rain.
the waves are crashing down;
they're finding it hard to keep their cool.


they have lost their calm, and it's not coming back.

[maxim,]

things change
seasons change; and we change along with them.
spring turns into summer; fall turns into winter.

as we change; we grow. we grow not only physically: but mentally
and emotionally, as a person.


as we live, change is inevitable.

[maxim,]

why can i only see you clearly in my dreams?

[maxim,]

her gentle hands were carefully placed on the piano keys, she feels at peace with the music; connected as one. she feels something drawing her into it; like her hands are glued to the keys.

the piece starts off calm; and gets more extreme, more fast, more intense with every note. every beat, every key played. and if you dare listen to her play; you too would be compelled to listen. immersed in the music; but also her beauty and passion whilst she's playing. you can't take your eyes off of her, and you can't walk away. you're stuck listening to the beautiful melody.

[maxim,]

the moon and the night sky deeply contrast;
but they compliment each-other in a beautiful way.
they're so different, yet so alike. but this feeling isn't permanent.
it never is. nothing is infinite; nothing stays forever.
and by the time the sun comes up,
the night sky and the moon have drifted apart.
they have lost each-other. what they had, it's gone.



when i look up at the sky,
it reminds me of us. the time we had together;
the moment i let go of your hand; tightly gripping onto mine.
wondering why the words 'forever' are now meaningless to us.
that was the moment we drifted apart from one another,
the day we lost each-other.
just like the night sky and the moon once did.

[maxim,]

the clock which sat comfortably
on the beautifully coloured wall

which is vibrantly coloured
ticks loudly,
loudly.
loud.

the hands of time
consume, and devours
what inevitably will disappear;
they will be forgotten. they will decay.

memories which come, and go
as they wish. freely, like clouds
─ drifting apart, and floating back together.



and now,
the clock which once gently sat
on the brightly coloured wall
and ticked loudly

is now broken,
it has been forgotten about
abandoned
uncared for

and ultimately
has lost its purpose.

jude

[maxim,]

our stained minds are tainted
by the milk of our conflict
which we are cluelessly bound to
tied to
yet we still cling on
helplessly and mindlessly
with no thought ── neither consideration
for the consequences that come upon us, but rather instead
are blinded by what is insignificant, only to herd like sheep
and follow whoever is considered to be most superior
and the ones who are easily led circle together in loops
stuck to the most suited leader like glue, in their own world
of cluelessness and futility

''come here,'' the leader commands,
so they follow, and mindlessly agree
with whichever decision is to be made.
with no hesitation, ''yes, yes, of course''
sung in a choir in perfect synchronization,
unable to come to a conclusion of their own
so once again they're stuck in an everyday
loop of constant destruction and conflict
of their fruitless choices