Pisaries Creator

I decided to experiment and try writing a poem similar to some famous poems I have read many times before. While my take falls far from the mark of the original, it was something to do when I didn’t feel like writing a flash fiction story or rewrite my novel. This more in depth and time-consuming endeavor comes tomorrow.

Year 21 (Sonnet 18 by William Shakespeare)

How will you fare twenty years from now? 
Your hunger sets so deep within me.
Not even the fullest plate can fill the wide void,
And you are not weakened or wilting,
But the days are getting longer,
The chilly winds have ripped through our shirts,
Every so often I look down at the white shine,
Nothing compares to the warmth you provide,
But every lasting bit will disappear gradually.
And we will hide in our make-believe curtains,
Nor wish for death to visit only one of us,
For our stomachs can feel the intense heat,
If we nourish all the involved parts,
Through the actions of our pent-up emotions.

You Will End When Time Decides (Because I could not stop for Death by Emily Dickinson)

Because I thought of you often in my youth,
Even ushered you into my room at night,
Closed the door and gave my heart to you,
I know what it is like to step closer to no return.
There was no vehicle to pick me up,
No Uber to take me to my last destination,
It did not exist back then,
And I closed my mind and further my sanity went down,
My body and soul resisted the urge to fight.
I ignored the glimpse of hope through the windows,
Me and him never glanced at each other, 
Not even in secrecy as he had no face to call his own,
His attraction was not in a typical location,
This was a transaction where he took, and I gave. 
I know what is like to release what is not yours,
Let go of what is not in your grasp,
A transition had begun since long ago,
Time is but a day but sometimes a decade over a century.

My Beloved, You Have to Be Here with Me! (O Captain! My Captain! By Walt Whitman)

Oh, my dear, my dear beloved, we are here.
I have seen you kicked and prodded, but now you are safe.
Over every pothole and every fierce wind, you have survived.
You will never die on me, and you will live.
That is what was supposed to happen, and that is what will happen.
The long road has stopped winding like a snake.
And you were not bitten and poisoned as others have.
The long-awaited reward will be me seeing your precious face.
You have taken such good care of your flesh.
And I will stroke your back gently once I am close enough.
I will make you pretty for all the townspeople to admire.
You are my cash cow that brings good fortune.
Oh, my dear, where have you now gone? 
You disappeared somewhere between ten and two.
My watch didn’t kept track when I fell asleep.
I was so overwhelmed with tiredness.
My brain wants to search for you, but I know you are gone.
It is a nightmare for you to be silent now.
I will think you are still alive in my delirium.
We were supposed to share everything together.
Now there is only one, the wrong one, and such misfortune for you.
There will not ever be a marked grave with your name.
For I never lose hope to see your radiance again.

Man Does Not Understand the Land Under His Feet (No Man Is an Island by John Donne)

There is not enough dirt,
For your feet to grow deeper,
Any fellow man of yours will not care,
His land is not falling into the waters below,
He has a home safe from ruin,
No part of it will fall over the cliff,
Our country might collapse under recklessness,
And some will discard without hesitation,
Others give up their courage,
I will know whom my friends will be,
They will come out of their intact houses, 
Bend their bodies to the dirt,
And knowing I do not have it all.

He Walks in Silence (She Walks in Beauty by Lord Byron)

He walks in silence, completely broken
Of any wisdom and joyful insight;
And behind his hollow brown eyes
There is much to witness and know;
No amount of thunderous claps
In the stormiest of weather opens his sky.
The biggest raindrop will fall, land on his head,
Forces him to look up for another
And it will not touch his face,
Not even land on his willing cheek;
Visions pronounce themselves as answers,
Strong and ready to stand still.
Landing upon his mouth, lips rough and inviting,
Dripping onto his wet shirt, the color disappears 
His shape changes, the pink turns darker,
Do not tell about better places,
He will not get there,
He will not respond.

Nightmares (Dreams by Langston Hughes)

Release your dark nightmares
To me at this time
Sleep is for comfort
That should not cost a dime.
Let go of nightmares
Whenever you can
Or your eyes will get heavy
In the darkened plan