Francois Bergh

where lost words come to rest in pieces…

Archive for Summer

Lost in time

It’s the long empty summers
That makes winter such a scary place.
Broken hearts and lost relations
Haunts the soul that’s wandering.
Lost, alone, and so confused,
And in a world that’s tumbling down…

The walls of seasons break and crumble
And spring is lost in monotony.
Where pretty flowers were relief,
Now sun-burnt wilting joins the grief.
Blurry skies and cloudless days
Accompany deserted dreams…

And where’s the comfort that have been
The beacon-light of self esteem?
Where’s the rain that once have cleansed
The rosebuds that now gathers dust?
Unplucked, unloved, not needed now (by the idle hearts)
They will remain there ’till they die…

What of the promises you made -
When I was losing against fate?
The things you said you won’t forget;
Protecting love until it’s dead?
Your well worn words are lost in time
And only now their echoes chime…

Edge of summer

Endless summer in a daze -
Knowing nothing of winter’s gaze -
Smiling and wishing on falling stars,
And holding onto the crescent moon,
As if precious things can be lost so soon…

At the edge of summer I hold your hand -
Knowing little of where I stand -
Next to you I know I am
More than just another man.
But when will I turn around
And find that you are gone…

Blue Girl Poems

Poems, with a sprinkling of music & photography

Verdwaalde Gedagtes

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Dreaming away

Lost fluttering of insecure emotions

Pamanner

Passionate Penchants

In This Room

an exploration into our authentic lives.

LScott Poetry

An Array of Smiles, Tears, Inspiration, Faith, and Love~

a soft place to rest...

within my heart.

Purple's Platitudes

nothing but words ...

A View from a Car Park

The regurgitated love of Benjamin Norris

vampireweather

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Unwrittentruth's Blog

to write the words i won't speak

My Own Avalon

Explore. Dream. Discover.

Thoughts From A Jaded Heart

Finding passion for life again...

Under the Fallen Leaves

lives a world of thoughts and musings of an Artist

stray lower.

Graze on my lips; and if those hills be dry, stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie. -Shakespeare

kite flying for manic depression

poetry and observations from a manic depressive sufferer

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