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 Posted: Mon Nov 01, 2010 7:37 pm
My poems,
they play a story in your head.
twisting your feelings
is how I was bred.
You know,
I could write to you all day.
The simplest words
become my play.
If I tried,
I could make you live my world.
You could see my pain
as it swirled.
If I wanted I’m sure,
I could make you cry
and I would too
just so I could comfort you.
But of course,
I’m not so selfish
…or maybe I am
God damn!
Words dance freely
to the page.
Can you here them sing?
They sing my rage.
The most happiest words,
are my darkest joke,
but always my plans
go up in smoke.
The person I want.
The person I write to.
Never read my words.
Don't even care to.
I realize this now,
As I continue to write.
My words swirl violently.
A whirlwind so bright.
But I can't stop now.
My head fills with dread.
I swallow and sweat,
then fall over dead
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Posted: Sun Nov 07, 2010 12:40 am
oo, I love the imagery.
4th line I believe you meant bred instead of bread. bred would be like putting two dogs together and having perfect puppies and bread would be what goes on the table with butter smile
And the 4th line of the 3rd stanza. I felt like a letter was missing cause I know that typing isn't perfect, but I don't know what letter.
I don't know if you meant to do this, but I felt the poem flowed really well int he beginning and then as the author/artist began to feel a little unsure, the flow became a little more erratic and in a sense fell apart in the end. I really liked that.
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Posted: Sun Nov 07, 2010 12:52 am
I like it, you are a good poet!
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