| |
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
 |
[p] is for prose?
10.11.02, 09:52:17
|
|
|
|
Post #1 (permalink) |
|
|
| |
|
|
Ahh.. don't laugh too much  I wrote this last night... it doesn't have great lyrical value... just kinda stream of consciousness, except its on one subject...
Unseen
I walk today, my companion beside me
faithful always
each sure of our knowlege of the other
I feel free this day.
Is it the sun? Is it the company?
I take off my shoes to run in the grass,
wet from morning dew.
Hidden from me
until a chance step falls on its edge
lies lurking a shard of glass
unseen
My friend stops to check the time
which has stalled for me long enough
to die a thousand times
each passing more hurtful than the last
I scream aloud to voice my anguish
my companion, coming up to me
only nods as if I have just made a casual remark
while tears escape the grasp of my eyelashes
darken the ground at my feet
patterns of small circles
my companion lifts a hand, inquisitive
intending only to check
for falling rain
Today, I have learned
I am here, but not
I am visible, but not
I cry, but cannot be heard
I find myself to be
unseen
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Wow.... It's quite good. Great job. |
______________________________________
QUOTE OF THE MOMENT:
Quote:
|
Quoth Lennon Legend:
Moral of the story girls; put out.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Ahh.. I've spent like three minutes trying to write an introduction without seeming condescending, but I'm sure you guys can see what I'm really talking about 
I still can't rhyme.
My Love
I have this tree that I like.
It is small, but strong
Placed in a perfect place
That gave me shade, shelter
When I most needed it
I stepped outside this day
to see my tree
And just for a moment,
I thought that perhaps
It was once again spring.
See that burst of colour!
The vibrancy and life!
But I blinked, and lost
The illusion keeping me
From acknowedging autumn.
Should I feel betrayed?
That the tree that sheltered me
From the summer storms
Will refuse to do so
For snow and ice?
Should I feel sorrow?
That the tree that protected me
May not yet be strong enough
To survive, as I shall
Through the bitter cold?
I go to my tree today,
A little saddened,
And let it know that
I appreciate its beauty
Even as it sheds its colour.
And I tell it
Perhaps, come spring
I hope that maybe
I can again see
My tree flourish again. |
______________________________________
 
|
|
|
|
|
|
| You're very good. Poetry doesn't have to rhyme, have a rhythm. I like your stuff. Post more!! *donates RP* |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Unseen doesn't really do much for me, because as you said, it's a stream of consciousness thing, and I need to be in the proper mindset to tune in to that.
However, My Love is nicely written, with a set structure, and a consistent theme, following how the tree is like throughout the different seasons. Overall, the piece has a detached, observing tone to it, but I can feel the affection for the tree in the words.
=) |
______________________________________
This message has been brought to you by a moderator from FFR's affiliate site, ShinraOnline.
Hi.
|
|
|
|
|
|
this is really good stuff. I'd like to see more. I like your event by event aproach to writing.. and as winter nights says, there doesn't always have to be rythme or ryhme, you style is unique and i would definitely like to read more..
post on |
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Both are real nice, but I liked the second one more. |
______________________________________
R.I.P. March 2002 - October 2006
|
|
|
|
|
|
| I liked My Love better. ^__^ It has such a warm tone to it. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Focus
I walk through my city
White snow churned to brown
Ice-hugged streets a ready trap
To catch the unwary
A little out of breath
I pause on a high bridge
While people hurry by, faceless and grey
Cowering beneath their coats
Is it a wonder to any
That I often cry?
That I turn away?
That I despair of my surroundings?
My head raised, I open my eyes
To watch my breath rise
A prayer, of sorts
For deliverance
Just then a break in the clouds
Allows me sunlight, momentarily blinding
Perhaps only coincidence?
Perhaps only synchronocity?
But how great of a difference
The smallest change can make
Things before that were known
Take on entirely new meaning
The low wall; impenetrable barrier
Now a pedastol so that I might see
My arms outstretched beside me
Is it my imagination that sees these feathers?
And I know in my heart
That my life is changed
Despite the danger inherent
I would rather fly |
|
|
|
|
| |
(thanks Phyxius and mechanicpunx!)
