Tag Archives: regret poetry

Life isn’t Fair, My Friend

Posted in Poetry English by

Too little time and too much to do, too little air and too much to breathe—and now the pale sun dips low, autumn surrenders to frost, and a dying voice begs: don’t wait.

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Life isn’t fair, my friend; life isn’t fair at all

Once there was…,

Too little time and too much to do;

and too little air and too much to breathe

Too little space and too much to woo;

and too little energy and too much to reap

Too limited a vision and too much to see;

and too small a mind and too much to learn

Too little wisdom and too much taken as free;

and too small a choice and too many boats to burn

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Life isn’t fair, my friend; life isn’t fair at all

Once there was…,

All those I could have loved, but didn’t,

and all those I shouldn’t have, but did

All those I could have blessed, but didn’t,

and all those I shouldn’t have, but did

Knowledge I could have gained, but didn’t,

and knowledge I shouldn’t have accessed, but did

Things that I could have passed on, but didn’t,

and things that I shouldn’t have, but did

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Life isn’t fair, my friend; life isn’t fair at all

Now…,

The pale sun is dipping low in the West,

and the wind has stopped ruffling my hair

The chaos is all tired and preparing to rest,

and the eternal silence is almost here

The autumn is surrendering fast to the frost,

and the ideas have stopped painting my imagination

The violins have hushed, and all will is lost,

and ambition has ceased to move my determination

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Life isn’t fair, my friend; life isn’t fair at all

Please, I beg you…,

Go do what you want and go reap what you need,

be kind to all around you and get rid of your greed

Go see what you desire and go learn what you can,

understand all that you like, no need for any plan

Go love whoever you want, go follow your dream,

go bless even your enemies, no use of any scheme

Go make a legacy and at all costs, pass it on,

don’t delay, just move, don’t wait for a new dawn

Nostalgia: Scratching the Healing Sores

Posted in Poetry English by
autumn_nostalgia_by_kotenko

What if nostalgia isn’t healing—but a wound we keep reopening?

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I am addicted to the pain, the sweet throbbing pain

I am fond of the pleasure, the long steady rain

I am addicted to nostalgia, which comes at my leisure,

the memories and regrets, my great and humble treasure

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I am addicted to scratching my old healing sores

I am fond of the pain, it lives in all my pores

I scratch them and peel them, the dry, brittle crust

I nick them and skin them, the gold-brown rust

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I am addicted to scrubbing the old, clouded mirror

I am fond of reflecting, my past growing clearer

I see them and smell them, the sepias and the musk

I recall it all vividly, the dawn and the dusk

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I am addicted to being lured in by its deadly charm

I am fond of its false promises, all sincerity, and no harm

I see it as the raindrops caught in a great spider’s web,

seducing me, entrancing me, the dance and the ebb

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I am addicted to all the waves, the ups, and the downs

I am fond of the onslaught, the smells, and the sounds

I perceive it as a storm, all chaos and destruction,

my mind is the stage, it’s a theatrical production

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I am addicted to my past, a slowly burning pyre

I am fond of my journey on the path of desire

I am addicted to nostalgia, my friend, till my death,

I am fond of its company, till my very last breath

Symphony of Loss

Posted in Poetry English by

Perhaps it was never really love—only obsession wearing a beautiful mask.

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Let you and me sit in the dark glen of misery,

and turn the faded pages of our long-lost history

The words have evaporated into the space and time,

while our souls were dancing their egoistic mime

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Let you and me play the symphony of bitter loss,

and try to trace our names in the wet green moss

The moisture has dried, the fragrance is gone,

while our patience was waiting for another dawn

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Let you and me sit under the old and bent trees,

and collect the shattered pieces of sun on bent knees

The leaves have all dried and are crumbling into bits,

while we were fighting each other to the end of our wits

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Let you and me think of passion spent and gone stale,

and recollect broken dreams, faded and already pale

They have receded into oblivion, the vision has died,

while we were pursuing our desires on a high tide

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Let you and me cry and scream our hearts out,

and try to fill in the cracks left behind by drought

The cracks are widening with the passage of time,

while we thought forgiving was an unthinkable crime

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Let you and me hold each other under the stars,

and find solace in intimacy, which was never really ours

The kisses have gone bland, and the embraces so cold,

while we stood against each other, feeling so bold

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Let you and me erase each other and forget what we had,

and allow our longing to die instead of rotting and going bad

The stink is burning our eyes and bringing unwanted tears,

while we focused on our ambition and our very own fears

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Let you and me say farewell and forget we were in love,

and permit our hearts to heal like a wounded dove

Perhaps it was never love that we thought we had,

perhaps it was just a crazy obsession, making us both mad