Waiting impatiently for the call,
Nothing delays it from arriving.
The phone rings,
The heart beats,
The soul softens,
The voice echoes,
The eyes imagine,
The phone clicks.
Sliding softly in the silky chair,
Imagination is only left stirring.
Avant-Garde Writer
By Talin Mari
I write in the dark like the avant-garde,
Moving from café to café without regard.
With my coffee cup always on my side,
I write feverishly throughout the night.
My dreams and ambitions floating about,
One word at a time I think is only allowed.
Chaos forms as I think of the past times,
Write, write, write them all in these lines.
No longer caring about a given structure,
I am the avant-garde destined to revolt.
The rhymes becomes non-existent here,
As I realize that it is I that am the change.
Rise up and create your own destination,
Be your own life’s unconventional rebel.
These are the thoughts that run rampant,
As I write in the dark like an avant-garde.
A Tearful Traveller
by Talin Mari
Today, I travel to places unknown,
Today, I travel without leaving home.
Minutes pass and all I do is wonder,
Am I the reason for my destruction?
Minutes pass and the tears continue,
How can I stop my world from me?
When I was blinded by simplicity,
Life continued to pass without hurt,
When I was blinded by not leaving,
Life continued to pass for all but me.
Now, I am left alone in my own world,
Now, I am left without friends and torn.
No friends,
No love,
No direction.
Where do I go?
Why am I left abandoned?
I wish I could stop my unexpected trip,
I wish I could stop my imprisoned self.
Do I really want to be my artificial self?
It’s time to travel alone on this journey,
No one can read my mind on this trip,
It’s time to mute the noises from outside,
No one can really bear my true feelings.
Imaginary Love
by Talin Mari
I wait eager to dream of you,
Feeling your soft slow touch.
I yearn anxious to delight you,
Dreaming only of our romance.
I hold you in my lifelike dreams,
Only to wake without you near.
I whisper into your gentle ears,
Only to know that none will hear.
My imaginary love,
Illusive to reality.
My imaginary love,
My unflawed entity.
My imaginary love.
The End
Timeless Magic
by Talin Mari
Magic exists when time is left to float among the beauty of the day,
Always aware that it will be able to fly, never once will it wrinkle.
Magic exists when the heart opens its wide chambers so untamed,
Always aware that the blood will violently flow, never will it regret.
Youthful in its kind soul does the timeless beauty creep into existence.
Youthful in its caring heart does the thrilling flow impress other lives.
Timeless is the nature of the magic that will never be able to be duplicated.
Timeless is the nature of the youthful magic that never ages in its space.
Magic is loved,
Always is mysterious.
Youthfulness is embraced,
Timelessness is anticipated.
The End
Thickened Bars
By Talin Mari
These thickened bars enclose my dreams,
Haunting me as I stare at their enclosure.
What fear is it that I must try to overcome?
Why do I feel apprehensive to break free?
These thickened bars hide my true being,
Masking me of my desired future passion.
What transformation must I still undergo?
Why do I want to hide and stay concealed?
These thickened bars are my true enemies,
Restraining me from believing in my abilities.
What have I done to create these rigid bars?
Why do I not choose to simply shatter them?
Many times, it can be hard to focus my energy on writing. With all the distractions in any given day, how can it be possible to sit at a desk and type? It can become restrictive at times and, undeniably, unproductive. I found that writing poetry has been my greatest tool to keep me focused. It helps me feel my story and my characters. It is my muse as I describe in my poem below.
Poetry, My Muse
By Talin Mari
If poetry is my muse,
My pen is my guide,
My heart is the story,
My pain is the plot.
If poetry is my muse,
Characters live in dreams,
Mystical worlds appear,
Creativity meets reality.
If poetry is my muse,
Love stories are imagined,
Abuse is violently dreaded,
Kindness is only rewarded.
If poetry is my muse,
My words become stories,
My thoughts become real,
My feelings become people.
