"three, left behind"
my God people change so fast,
and it usually takes so long
but it has only been a month,
and things have gone so wrong
where once stood four together,
now stand three, left behind
and some hang on forever,
but me, I'm not that blind
the third lies by accident,
and to herself not even knowing
that I know her well enough to see,
all the subtext that she's showing
the one has found new friends,
and a new mask to wear for them
with two of the three still hanging on,
to just change at his every whim
pouring out your soul
-
trentm32
- Oskar Winner: 2005
- Posts: 2272
- Joined: 3/17/2002, 2:51 pm
- Location: my heart is in New York.
- Contact:
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
-
trentm32
- Oskar Winner: 2005
- Posts: 2272
- Joined: 3/17/2002, 2:51 pm
- Location: my heart is in New York.
- Contact:
"the monastery"
sitting underneath their trees,
looking for something to write on--
dreaming of something to write
always looking up to their windows,
wondering if they see me--
I wonder if they know
I watch the sun fade behind their leaves,
racking my mind for something to say--
breaking my heart for anything
none of them ever come down to see me,
watch it all up from their rooms--
alone there in their rooms
the monks up in their towers,
just dying for the vacated past--
and digging for something to die for
sitting underneath their trees,
looking for something to write on--
dreaming of something to write
always looking up to their windows,
wondering if they see me--
I wonder if they know
I watch the sun fade behind their leaves,
racking my mind for something to say--
breaking my heart for anything
none of them ever come down to see me,
watch it all up from their rooms--
alone there in their rooms
the monks up in their towers,
just dying for the vacated past--
and digging for something to die for
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
-
trentm32
- Oskar Winner: 2005
- Posts: 2272
- Joined: 3/17/2002, 2:51 pm
- Location: my heart is in New York.
- Contact:
"maps"
we're charting all the stars,
making plans, like mice and men
just lying in our gutters,
trying to find the sky again
making all of these small plans,
to comfort our beating hearts
knowing full-well they'll never stand,
and the world'll fall apart
but it keeps our hearts from breaking,
and our eyes find a place to hide
just digging through our maps,
trying to map the final ride
we're charting all the stars,
making plans, like mice and men
just lying in our gutters,
trying to find the sky again
making all of these small plans,
to comfort our beating hearts
knowing full-well they'll never stand,
and the world'll fall apart
but it keeps our hearts from breaking,
and our eyes find a place to hide
just digging through our maps,
trying to map the final ride
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
-
Random Name
- Oskar Winner: 2007
- Posts: 10134
- Joined: 8/16/2003, 2:57 pm
- Location: New Finland
"Three, left behind" sounds more like a journal entry then a poem. I think thats because you don't use as much figurative language as in the other ones and its very blunt. Also there is no emotionial change at the end. Its like, it just ended. 
I donno, I guess thats just me.
I like "the monastery" and "maps" is definatly emtee inspired.
I donno, I guess thats just me.
I like "the monastery" and "maps" is definatly emtee inspired.
-Sarah
Goodbye you liar,
Well you sipped from the cup but you don't own up to anything
Then you think you will inspire
Take apart your head
(and I wish I could inspire)
Take apart your demons, then you add it to the list.
Goodbye you liar,
Well you sipped from the cup but you don't own up to anything
Then you think you will inspire
Take apart your head
(and I wish I could inspire)
Take apart your demons, then you add it to the list.
-
trentm32
- Oskar Winner: 2005
- Posts: 2272
- Joined: 3/17/2002, 2:51 pm
- Location: my heart is in New York.
- Contact:
thanks; yeah, "three, left behind" actually started as a short commentary in my journal, but it ended up as that.
I got to thinking about "monastery" while I was sitting outside a local monastery all alone in their bing, empty 'park'-ish area on a park bench. I had a lot on my mind, and I almost started crying over it all. I looked up at the monastery, through the haning trees, and scribbled the poem out later that night.
Yeah, "maps" is kinda emtee inspired; by his music quote, and Oscar Wilde's similiar quote.
This next one came about after I saw the title of the thread on here about "history written by the victors". I got to thinking about that for a minute, and this came out...
...
"same stores, different endings"
truth comes from every point of view,
in sepia photos from our past
we can't help how we see the picture,
as we know it always lasts
black and white soldiers in the trenches,
or the Nazis burning books?
sad faces, in concentration camps,
with their neverending empty looks
in the textbooks of London to Manhattan,
the same stories, but different endings,
about a war of Northern aggression,
about the letters we've been sending
and our children lined in desks,
pretty faces all in a row
filled with sugar-coated propaganda,
and it's all they'll ever know
I got to thinking about "monastery" while I was sitting outside a local monastery all alone in their bing, empty 'park'-ish area on a park bench. I had a lot on my mind, and I almost started crying over it all. I looked up at the monastery, through the haning trees, and scribbled the poem out later that night.
Yeah, "maps" is kinda emtee inspired; by his music quote, and Oscar Wilde's similiar quote.
This next one came about after I saw the title of the thread on here about "history written by the victors". I got to thinking about that for a minute, and this came out...
...
"same stores, different endings"
truth comes from every point of view,
in sepia photos from our past
we can't help how we see the picture,
as we know it always lasts
black and white soldiers in the trenches,
or the Nazis burning books?
sad faces, in concentration camps,
with their neverending empty looks
in the textbooks of London to Manhattan,
the same stories, but different endings,
about a war of Northern aggression,
about the letters we've been sending
and our children lined in desks,
pretty faces all in a row
filled with sugar-coated propaganda,
and it's all they'll ever know
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
-
trentm32
- Oskar Winner: 2005
- Posts: 2272
- Joined: 3/17/2002, 2:51 pm
- Location: my heart is in New York.
- Contact:
"a riot in the streets"
there's a riot in the streets
of your overworked imagination,
burned out fires, all that's left,
of the hatred that's been shelved
mob mentality leads the way,
for your broken army of one
all these leaderless agendas,
where are they gonna send us?
nothing but rubble in the streets,
with broken glass, and broken hearts
and all that's left above is ash,
and we're suspened for the crash
there's a riot in the streets
of your overworked imagination,
burned out fires, all that's left,
of the hatred that's been shelved
mob mentality leads the way,
for your broken army of one
all these leaderless agendas,
where are they gonna send us?
nothing but rubble in the streets,
with broken glass, and broken hearts
and all that's left above is ash,
and we're suspened for the crash
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
-
trentm32
- Oskar Winner: 2005
- Posts: 2272
- Joined: 3/17/2002, 2:51 pm
- Location: my heart is in New York.
- Contact:
"a room"
it's an offer I never saw coming,
a room, and a roof, in that place
the place I've loathed for so long,
to fill that idle space
does it all come from necessity,
or are we mending burned-up bridges?
can they even be rebuilt,
are we falling from the ledges?
will it compromise more than shown,
the friendships I hold most dear?
will I be sucked into that world,
will I even care?
will I leave them all behind,
do it all just like you did?
no, I can draw that line,
I can live by what I've said
but there are only 24 hours,
and I've filled all of those now
maybe I can dig more from the night,
and make it all work out, somehow
it's an offer I never saw coming,
a room, and a roof, in that place
the place I've loathed for so long,
to fill that idle space
does it all come from necessity,
or are we mending burned-up bridges?
can they even be rebuilt,
are we falling from the ledges?
will it compromise more than shown,
the friendships I hold most dear?
will I be sucked into that world,
will I even care?
will I leave them all behind,
do it all just like you did?
no, I can draw that line,
I can live by what I've said
but there are only 24 hours,
and I've filled all of those now
maybe I can dig more from the night,
and make it all work out, somehow
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
-
trentm32
- Oskar Winner: 2005
- Posts: 2272
- Joined: 3/17/2002, 2:51 pm
- Location: my heart is in New York.
- Contact:
"only myself when I'm alone"
I'm only myself when I'm alone,
amber lamp, pens and paper
worn those masks for far too long,
and I've finally lost the face
a smaller room to rest my head,
faded pictures, little shelves
filled with everything you did,
and a course I'll never trace
I'm only myself when I'm alone,
amber lamp, pens and paper
worn those masks for far too long,
and I've finally lost the face
a smaller room to rest my head,
faded pictures, little shelves
filled with everything you did,
and a course I'll never trace
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
-
trentm32
- Oskar Winner: 2005
- Posts: 2272
- Joined: 3/17/2002, 2:51 pm
- Location: my heart is in New York.
- Contact:
"know I'm real"
idle conversation,
choking out the air
fid meaing between the lines,
acting like I just don't care
forcing nonchalance,
hiding all I feel
roll my eyes and fake a smile,
and you don't even know I'm real
...
"time machine"
they say night is for the lovers,
I can't make the sun go down
but the sky above's so blue,
it alomst seems like it'll do
so every night I pray for clouds,
or an eclipse to take the light
all I can get's a purple glow,
an imminent dusk to never show
...
idle conversation,
choking out the air
fid meaing between the lines,
acting like I just don't care
forcing nonchalance,
hiding all I feel
roll my eyes and fake a smile,
and you don't even know I'm real
...
"time machine"
they say night is for the lovers,
I can't make the sun go down
but the sky above's so blue,
it alomst seems like it'll do
so every night I pray for clouds,
or an eclipse to take the light
all I can get's a purple glow,
an imminent dusk to never show
...
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
-
trentm32
- Oskar Winner: 2005
- Posts: 2272
- Joined: 3/17/2002, 2:51 pm
- Location: my heart is in New York.
- Contact:
"sweet catastrophe"
does the lamplight burn as many tears,
as the sweet catastrophe in my head?
do their missteps falter, just as mine,
with the proud I am, instead?
can htis life teach me to hold a smile,
on my dreams of silent film?
just over thinking nothing, this sarcasm--
I don't even know my whims
it's just a so long search for meaning,
wade through static, finding noise
God, if I could only find myself--
with my ending, always poised
...
"a construction paper star"
a cardboard box of memories,
countless pennies, a ceramic jar
a decade wrapped in closets,
I'm a construction paper star
edges curl into the heart,
a sky of black spray paint
my heavens hang, on this old string,
ruled by watercolor saints
...
does the lamplight burn as many tears,
as the sweet catastrophe in my head?
do their missteps falter, just as mine,
with the proud I am, instead?
can htis life teach me to hold a smile,
on my dreams of silent film?
just over thinking nothing, this sarcasm--
I don't even know my whims
it's just a so long search for meaning,
wade through static, finding noise
God, if I could only find myself--
with my ending, always poised
...
"a construction paper star"
a cardboard box of memories,
countless pennies, a ceramic jar
a decade wrapped in closets,
I'm a construction paper star
edges curl into the heart,
a sky of black spray paint
my heavens hang, on this old string,
ruled by watercolor saints
...
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
-
trentm32
- Oskar Winner: 2005
- Posts: 2272
- Joined: 3/17/2002, 2:51 pm
- Location: my heart is in New York.
- Contact:
"spare me"
hide behind self-righteous,
you didn't spare me--
you didn't spare me
hide behind cowardice,
you didn't spare me--
you didn't spare me
hide behind your mind,
you didn't spare me--
you didn't spare me
hide behind your lies,
you didn't spare me--
you didn't spare me
and I give it all away,
to anyone who'll take
forever or today--
you're everything,
everything
and I give it all away,
forever or just today
to anyone who'll take--
everything,
my everything
tiptoes on the grass,
blades between my toes
is this love?
is this love?
I don't know,
I don't know
I breakdown to the ground
the ocean in my hand,
sand between my fingers
is this love?
is this love?
let it linger,
let it linger
I breakdown at the sound
and there's a thousand conversations,
inside of your sweet head
and a million sad, sad poems,
inside of mine, instead
hide behind self-righteous,
you didn't spare me--
you didn't spare me
hide behind cowardice,
you didn't spare me--
you didn't spare me
hide behind your mind,
you didn't spare me--
you didn't spare me
hide behind your lies,
you didn't spare me--
you didn't spare me
and I give it all away,
to anyone who'll take
forever or today--
you're everything,
everything
and I give it all away,
forever or just today
to anyone who'll take--
everything,
my everything
tiptoes on the grass,
blades between my toes
is this love?
is this love?
I don't know,
I don't know
I breakdown to the ground
the ocean in my hand,
sand between my fingers
is this love?
is this love?
let it linger,
let it linger
I breakdown at the sound
and there's a thousand conversations,
inside of your sweet head
and a million sad, sad poems,
inside of mine, instead
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
-
happening fish
- Oskar Winner: 2006
- Posts: 17934
- Joined: 3/17/2002, 11:22 am
-
trentm32
- Oskar Winner: 2005
- Posts: 2272
- Joined: 3/17/2002, 2:51 pm
- Location: my heart is in New York.
- Contact:
thanks!
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
-
trentm32
- Oskar Winner: 2005
- Posts: 2272
- Joined: 3/17/2002, 2:51 pm
- Location: my heart is in New York.
- Contact:
"this sad"
hapless confusion,
wanting something, but not sure
if it can be had
break the delusion,
finally thinking, finally pure
to see in me this sad
hapless confusion,
wanting something, but not sure
if it can be had
break the delusion,
finally thinking, finally pure
to see in me this sad
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
-
trentm32
- Oskar Winner: 2005
- Posts: 2272
- Joined: 3/17/2002, 2:51 pm
- Location: my heart is in New York.
- Contact:
"broken conversation"
"I don't want to get in the way of your life."
"Is this love?"
"I don't know... I don't think I've ever been in love."
"I hate to do this over the phone; because you can't see my hand gestures, and I can't see your eyes."
"I'm glad you can't see my eyes."
"Are they still blue?"
"I don't want to get in the way of your life."
"Is this love?"
"I don't know... I don't think I've ever been in love."
"I hate to do this over the phone; because you can't see my hand gestures, and I can't see your eyes."
"I'm glad you can't see my eyes."
"Are they still blue?"
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
-
christa lynn
- Oskar Winner: 2006
- Posts: 672
- Joined: 3/19/2002, 2:40 pm
- Location: UBC
- Contact:
-
veryoldshoelace
- Posts: 437
- Joined: 3/18/2002, 7:09 pm
-
trentm32
- Oskar Winner: 2005
- Posts: 2272
- Joined: 3/17/2002, 2:51 pm
- Location: my heart is in New York.
- Contact:
thanks guys!
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
broken conversation is SO. GOOD.
"I'm glad you can't see my eyes."
"Are they still blue?"
"I'm glad you can't see my eyes."
"Are they still blue?"
turn your head
come back again
to here knows when
last.fm
come back again
to here knows when
last.fm
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trentm32
- Oskar Winner: 2005
- Posts: 2272
- Joined: 3/17/2002, 2:51 pm
- Location: my heart is in New York.
- Contact:
"five"
open to love, but not openly looking;
broken hearted, dripping glue--
hammers and nails, broken clockwork,
doing everything, everything I can do
all I can ask, not knowing the question;
shattered ego, lost beliefs--
books and words, most just see film,
filled with everything, filled with grief
a happy memory, move on confused;
happy with five, not sure about ever--
letters and stamps, too hard on the heart,
a decade of dialogue, a decade of heather
my world of grey, can't pick a color;
closer to light, but can't find the turn--
candles and flashlights, but mostly the dark,
losing my memory, and losing my burn
a broken smile, but a smile, nonetheless;
losing that twinkle, I'm losing your eyes--
passion and heart, don't let me burn out,
with a gift of my subtlety, this dear gift of my tries
open to love, but not openly looking;
broken hearted, dripping glue--
hammers and nails, broken clockwork,
doing everything, everything I can do
all I can ask, not knowing the question;
shattered ego, lost beliefs--
books and words, most just see film,
filled with everything, filled with grief
a happy memory, move on confused;
happy with five, not sure about ever--
letters and stamps, too hard on the heart,
a decade of dialogue, a decade of heather
my world of grey, can't pick a color;
closer to light, but can't find the turn--
candles and flashlights, but mostly the dark,
losing my memory, and losing my burn
a broken smile, but a smile, nonetheless;
losing that twinkle, I'm losing your eyes--
passion and heart, don't let me burn out,
with a gift of my subtlety, this dear gift of my tries
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>