Yet Another Poem That is Not a Sestina

Occasionally, I can taste sweetness;

sweetness that tastes bitter to my senses.

Tongue can taste the darkness in the flavor,

eyes can see the contrast of the fallen

moon; the new crater of my existence,

falling much shorter than exploding star.

 

Falling �" the metaphor of the living;

occasionally, the new moon will rise.

Moon, the birthplace of nothing but this dust;

sweet, just like powdered sugar. My honey

eyes, your salty stare, flavors clash on my

tongue �" it never was very appealing.

 

Tongue full of this flavor, it tells no lies;

falling out, I’m tasting something sour.

Eyes full of distress, or maybe of glee,

occasions never marked a better word.

Sweetness - the guarantee of bitterness;

moonlight - just the guarantee of the night

 

Moonlight, guaranteeing my distress - and

tongue-tied, wrestling through the clouded night.

Sweetly, I take control of this flavor;

falling down, it starts to taste like pepper.

Occasion is changed, I pushed it away;

eyes full of sunshine, burning in the end.

 

Eyes can see more than darkness, eyes can see

moonlight, nearly as bright as the sunshine.

Occasions show that the soul won’t let go,

tongue unraveled, soft spoken and loud, as

fallen hopes return to the top, and the

sweetness that I taste is only sugar.

 

Sweetness is just a metaphor for hope,

eyes will observe both sides of the contrast.

Falling was only a way of life, the

moon was only in the distance. So turn,

tongue-tied left you out of sight, and on this

occasion, everything turned out all right.

 

Moon showed the way and the sweetness will stay,

tongue tasted hope as the eyes fell away;

falling away, this occasion was saved.