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how to write an effective essay
The new school term is going to start again in a few days time. We’ve been asked by many students to continue writing and updating our blog amidst the Christmas holiday!
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Lost...
Being in love often finds us in a situation where we live our lives as much for our loved one as for ourselves.,
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Submited By : |
sara |
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| Date: |
06 August 2006 |
| Author: |
John Laset |
Rating: 2.6/5 (14 votes cast) |
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Lost... |
My Angel...
Where are you?
I'm lost, confused, alone...
I cannot see you...
There is darkness around me;
The fire has died, my light blown away
By an unwanted breeze...
I am wandering, going around and around
in circles...
Is there no end to this loneliness?
My Angel...
Where are you?
My heart is sad, it cannot hear your songs.
All I hear is the echo of your love,
Its melody fading...
Fading...
Fading...
Now there is only silence, maddening silence.
It is suffocating, draining my heart of your songs...
Is there no escape from this madness?
My Angel...
Where are you?
I am cold...
I cannot feel your wings around me,
Cannot feel your loving arms to embrace me...
There is only emptiness...
Emptiness that pulls, and pushes, and shoves...
The emptiness is within me, devouring me whole,
Leaving nothing left but an empty soul...
Where are you, my Angel? Come to me, fill me up with your love... Make me
whole again...
Do not leave me in this pit of despair...
My Angel...
Where are you?
I cannot see you, hear you, feel you...
Have you gone away from me? have you taken away my heart...
... My Angel,
... where are you? |
-John Laset - |
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Related Poems
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When Love Is an Affliction |
| When love is an affliction,
There's not much one can do.
Despite the way you've treated me,
I'm still in love with you. |
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Why Do I? |
| Love is perhaps the only pain humans don't always try to avoid. |
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And like a dying lady |
| And like a dying lady, lean and pale,
Who totters forth, wrapp'd in a gauzy veil,
Out of her chamber, led by the insane
And feeble wanderings of her fading brain,
The moon arose up in the murky East,
A white and shapeless mass. |
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Memoirs Of A Pack-rat |
| This poem reminds me of a comedy skit, about our innate pursuit of "things" in Life. Except -- the truth revealed here isn't really very funny. |
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Poems Pedia is a place where you can share poems with others, with a very easy interface that lets you to search and navigate through the several poems categories, send them to your friends, see others feedback and rate them.
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