forevermore the darkness
will be our home,
because we find the unexpected
without light
picking the stars we like,
but we forget that
the darkness made them visible.
forevermore i will look up to the sky searching
for what we are supposed to be
in the night full of destinies,
but the end is always here,
hiding in the light.
forevermore i will love the night
when the soul is visible
and the feral roses are rising,
from the unknown.
forevermore i will forget

Every day I lie in melancholy, tears carving their way down my skin.
How did things turn out like this ?
One day I could see a future blazing with hope,
even through the constant storms of your weathered heart.
The next, all I was left with was a doubt,
A fear that everything we shared was nothing but my own delusion.
People whisper their questions-
why I stay beside someone,
Who offers me no tomorrow to walk toward
and no place to rest my tired heart.
They say it softly, almost kindly,

The sun sets on a world unknown,
a landscape filled with wires and steel,
and in the distance, all alone,
a lonely android starts to feel.

At first a spark, a fleeting jolt,
and then a rumbling, constant purr,
another flash, a lightning bolt,
the world unknown remains a blur.

The lonely android wants to speak,
its default is a gentle voice,
its tone is calming, soft and meek,
then bellows with its stronger choice.

Sure, here's a poem summarizing my experience critiquing the two poems:

Words and lines, a canvas white,
Two poems wait, for critique's light.
With pen in hand, I start to write,
Evaluating form, and insight.

One speaks of clowns, of joy and pain,
A structured verse, with whimsy's reign.
Its language playful, and surreal,
Absurdity, its humor's seal.

Mr. clown's house is always a mess;
he never finds his belongings
but he cares for the motley dress,
the red nose, and the tight-strings.

He came back late last night,
he was almost sleeping,
he wore the sandwiches at sight,
and ate the glasses he was wearing.

He missed the kitchen for the WC,
he switched off the toilet's light,
so he couldn't tell where to pee
till the sun is high with day-light.

i found a red light that turned to green
the moment i sped past

that hour’s train thundered above as
i threatened the glossy paint
against the stone trestle
of the railroad bridge

the fog of thinking dissolved on that
cold road as I watched it
consumed underneath,
seventy miles per hour
pulling the yellow snake
across the black

i thought about abbreviations
the way you squeeze otherwise respectable words
as you punch out the order for a classified