Moonwolf
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« on: February 21, 2008, 07:24:27 pm » |
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Here's one of my first tries at free verse (I'm not a huge fan of it, I prefer structure, but it can be an interesting structure all its own sometimes).
“Lunar Tales of Roses Lost”
A rose Sits quietly on the ground Bathed in silvery moonlight. It’s petals, normally blood red, Appear black in the night It lies on the ground, silent and still, Half remembered, half forgotten. But, for me, it will always be remembered. I recall the night she dropped it. The dew now on its petals remind Me of the tears that spilled Off her cheek that night. She had always run to me for help But that night all I could offer Was silent company. All I ever offered was silent company. Before that night it had been enough. She told me the sad tale Of her love that was lost. How he died to save her. He had been killed by A blow that should’ve killed her. She blamed herself that night For everything that happened. Kept telling herself she should’ve moved. That she should’ve dodged the sword Instead of being frozen with fear. All of this comes rushing back to me In a wave of memory, I can never forget. Like the pull I create on the waves, Time’s memories pull on my mind. I, the moon, watch silently as yet another Rose is dropped by the riverbank Seconds before another grief-stricken woman Jumps into the dark river’s embrace. River water splashes like tears onto The blood red petals of the silent rose.
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Seer Fox
The Cause of Cancer, Chernobyl and Multiple Orgasms
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« Reply #1 on: May 15, 2008, 09:32:05 am » |
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“Baker Tales of Baguettes Eaten”
A baguette Lies scrumptiously on the tray Bathed in silvery butter. It’s crust, normally golden brown, Appears delicious in the night It lies on the tray, bready and tasty, Half eaten, half not. But, for me, it will always be eaten. I recall the night I made it. The lettuce now on its crust reminds Me of the sauce that spilled Off my apron that night. I had always run to the butchers for ingredients But that night all I could offer Was a croissant. All I ever offered was a croissant. Before that night it had been enough. I told him the sad tale Of my fridge that was empty. How I baked to pay him. It had been emptied by A cake that should’ve filled me. I blamed myself that night For everything that happened. Kept telling myself I should’ve added more cheese. That I should’ve used the cream Instead of using frozen yoghurt. All of this comes rushing back to me In a wave of memory, I can never forget. Like the topping I create on the tarts, The butchers meats smell on my bread. I, the baker, watch deliciously as yet another baguette is made in the oven Seconds before another delicious baguette Jumps into the dark mouth’s embrace. Saliva splashes like sauce onto The golden brown crust of the delicious baguette.
Made it better for you. Ciat, Seer Fox
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jazen
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« Reply #2 on: May 18, 2008, 05:11:12 pm » |
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Seer, be nice please.
It's a beautiful poem. I like the story it tells, its touching.
In a wave of memory, I can never forget.
I would put 'I can never forget' on a seperate line.
The dew now on its petals remind Me of the tears that spilled Off her cheek that night
Thats the longest part without punctuation, and when paying attention to the punctuation it felt slightly out of place, but I cant think of anything to do instead, and it works I guess.
Congratulations for a good poem.
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AMERICA here I come, I will be out of the country - and away from internet - for the next 2-3 weeks. A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step, A story of a thousand words starts with a single thought.
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Seer Fox
The Cause of Cancer, Chernobyl and Multiple Orgasms
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« Reply #3 on: May 29, 2008, 04:41:04 pm » |
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Seer, be nice please.
Yes mum. Ciat, Seer Fox
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