pouring out your soul
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afealicious
- Oskar Winner: 2006
- Posts: 7374
- Joined: 12/8/2004, 8:41 pm
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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:
"strung-out like a puppet"
suspended--
hanging in the spotlight
strung-out like a puppet,
without a puppeteer
a million miles of string--
with nothing to tie onto
limbs flailing,
not finding you to grasp
but the show will go on--
the curtain will fall
and the lights will dim,
for the show-- it must go on
suspended--
hanging in the spotlight
strung-out like a puppet,
without a puppeteer
a million miles of string--
with nothing to tie onto
limbs flailing,
not finding you to grasp
but the show will go on--
the curtain will fall
and the lights will dim,
for the show-- it must go on
"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>
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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:
got pretentious in Lit class...
"the cure"
verses and prose,
yellow smoke haunts the streets
of cobblestone and arches--
of the eyes I can't meet
burn like Dante's vision,
in the hearts of cold, hard souls
make it to the riverside--
pay the boatman's toll
lost inside a thickened world,
of lies, so insecure
as we stumble to the end of this--
and hope that there we'll find the cure
...
I wrote this one about the bracelet from the novella I'm working on...
"beads on a string"
beads on a string,
a lie from a lady
who wanted a sale,
who wanted to save me
a bustling street,
with lanterns around
daylight at midnight,
the treasure I'd found
but finally it failed me,
it's life not a dream
and I lose this dear bracelet,
as it floats down the stream
...
"a straight-forward social commentary on high-school"
"the kegs in the corner--
you need your invite to get in"
to hang around, and hear the sounds--
the cool kids always win
I see the pretty girls on the far side,
sipping drinks from see-through cups
cloudy water, with a hint of yellow--
as they soak their eyes all up
the room's a sea of lettermen,
hometown colors burn like suns
blue and red will never find the house--
just let the cool kids have their fun
they all sway to the music,
the cool new songs-- they're here to stay
but I'm still looking through their doorway--
and as it closes, I walk away
"the cure"
verses and prose,
yellow smoke haunts the streets
of cobblestone and arches--
of the eyes I can't meet
burn like Dante's vision,
in the hearts of cold, hard souls
make it to the riverside--
pay the boatman's toll
lost inside a thickened world,
of lies, so insecure
as we stumble to the end of this--
and hope that there we'll find the cure
...
I wrote this one about the bracelet from the novella I'm working on...
"beads on a string"
beads on a string,
a lie from a lady
who wanted a sale,
who wanted to save me
a bustling street,
with lanterns around
daylight at midnight,
the treasure I'd found
but finally it failed me,
it's life not a dream
and I lose this dear bracelet,
as it floats down the stream
...
"a straight-forward social commentary on high-school"
"the kegs in the corner--
you need your invite to get in"
to hang around, and hear the sounds--
the cool kids always win
I see the pretty girls on the far side,
sipping drinks from see-through cups
cloudy water, with a hint of yellow--
as they soak their eyes all up
the room's a sea of lettermen,
hometown colors burn like suns
blue and red will never find the house--
just let the cool kids have their fun
they all sway to the music,
the cool new songs-- they're here to stay
but I'm still looking through their doorway--
and as it closes, I walk away
"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>
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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:
"flip-flops fall in February"
flip-flops fall in February,
a metaphor for being free
but the cold is getting harder,
and my toes are blue, I see
a new pair, with dark green plaid,
a new look for the same old feet
to carry me through this world, so numb,
so numb; but I'm still free
flip-flops fall in February,
a metaphor for being free
but the cold is getting harder,
and my toes are blue, I see
a new pair, with dark green plaid,
a new look for the same old feet
to carry me through this world, so numb,
so numb; but I'm still free
"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>
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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:
"lost originality"
lost originality,
in the world of MTV
just bob your head,
and frown instead--
like that's how you'd really be
turn on the college radio,
and throw a football to a friend
just hang out there,
like you don't care--
write the letters you'll never send
or acting like you know,
with old books and a guitar
as you write a story,
in Abercrombie--
about how we fell so far
lost originality,
in the world of MTV
just bob your head,
and frown instead--
like that's how you'd really be
turn on the college radio,
and throw a football to a friend
just hang out there,
like you don't care--
write the letters you'll never send
or acting like you know,
with old books and a guitar
as you write a story,
in Abercrombie--
about how we fell so far
"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>
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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:
and I held you for a time,
even if it wasn't right
and if you say--
mistake
but I think
it's the closest to love we'll ever be
even if it wasn't right
and if you say--
mistake
but I think
it's the closest to love we'll ever be
"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>
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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:
the park had become a sea
of fallen leaves
as the broken trees
haunt the sky
and the water froze
as if the fountain knows
that you're gone
"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>
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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:
This is my magnum opus of the week. I put it together from some partials I've been working on. I'm gonna hook up with my uber-guitar playing roommate, and put a melody to this. 
Read it to yourself with a slow beat...
"open my door to the world"
thinking of, a sunny day
I open my door to the world
concrete streets, are all I meet,
on my way to a nobody girl
thinking of, the thing I'd lost
I forget to hold on
a darkened sky, why do I try
I just can't find the sun
and the park's a sea
of fallen leaves
and the broken trees
haunt the sky
and the water froze
as if the fountain knows
that you're gone,
so far, far away
and even if you say
"mistake"
empty words,
when will I learn
and even if you say
"goodbye"
broken hearts,
when will I learn
and the park's a sea
of fallen leaves
as the broken trees
haunt the sky
and the water froze
as if the fountain knows
that you're gone,
so far, far away
cobblestone, and archways show
the ways to forget
a sky of paint, and ash above
the rain can't lament
neon lights, and noise hide
the place I used to be
and fake smiles, and empty rooms,
hide the man I used to be
and the park's a sea
of fallen leaves
as the broken trees
haunt the sky
and the water froze
as if the fountain knows
that you're gone,
so far, far away
thinking of, a sunny day
I open my door to the world
Read it to yourself with a slow beat...
"open my door to the world"
thinking of, a sunny day
I open my door to the world
concrete streets, are all I meet,
on my way to a nobody girl
thinking of, the thing I'd lost
I forget to hold on
a darkened sky, why do I try
I just can't find the sun
and the park's a sea
of fallen leaves
and the broken trees
haunt the sky
and the water froze
as if the fountain knows
that you're gone,
so far, far away
and even if you say
"mistake"
empty words,
when will I learn
and even if you say
"goodbye"
broken hearts,
when will I learn
and the park's a sea
of fallen leaves
as the broken trees
haunt the sky
and the water froze
as if the fountain knows
that you're gone,
so far, far away
cobblestone, and archways show
the ways to forget
a sky of paint, and ash above
the rain can't lament
neon lights, and noise hide
the place I used to be
and fake smiles, and empty rooms,
hide the man I used to be
and the park's a sea
of fallen leaves
as the broken trees
haunt the sky
and the water froze
as if the fountain knows
that you're gone,
so far, far away
thinking of, a sunny day
I open my door to the world
"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>
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beautiful liar
- Posts: 6281
- Joined: 4/11/2004, 9:30 am
- Contact:
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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:
You know, you never really can go back. People always talk about ‘getting back to normal.’ But I’ve come to realize that that’s pretty much bullshit. You can never really go back to how things were before. Because, well, things will never be how they were before. Things have changed. You have changed. Felt things, seen things, experienced things; done things, that you can’t take back. You can get to a different place. It may be better, or it may be worse. But it’ll never be the same.
"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>
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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:
"whisper"
and when you say,
"there's nothing you can do,
it isn't about you,"
I whisper under my breath,
"no-- it never is."
and when you say,
"there's nothing you can do,
it isn't about you,"
I whisper under my breath,
"no-- it never is."
"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>
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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:
"and so it ends"
and so it ends,
you've got your box--
and I've got mine
your drawer sits there empty--
but I can't bring myself to fill it
you used to be number three,
now you're not even in my dial--
lost in the address book
but I left your ring the same--
I just can't bring myself to hear it
and my shirts suddenly appeared,
hanging there in my closet--
they have the faintest scent of you
and Passionate Kisses had just left my head--
but God, I still can't face it
and so it ends,
you've got your box--
and I've got mine
your drawer sits there empty--
but I can't bring myself to fill it
you used to be number three,
now you're not even in my dial--
lost in the address book
but I left your ring the same--
I just can't bring myself to hear it
and my shirts suddenly appeared,
hanging there in my closet--
they have the faintest scent of you
and Passionate Kisses had just left my head--
but God, I still can't face it
"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:
"my broken hands hold this pen"
my broken hands hold this pen,
to pen this broken poem
about drowning, about reaching--
about a rescue that'll never come
about all my empty words,
and all the words that I can't say
the scribbled lines, lacking eloquence--
and the cliches I cling to tightly
about the stories inside my head,
that never will find paper
and the ones I don't even mean for--
that make it for better, make it for worse
about the wind outside, that's howling,
that blows away the sunlight
and the grass that wets my feet--
fresh from morning dew
about all their broken hearts,
and mine, more shattered than all
all the faces I can't forget--
as their eyes shine through the night
about the places I haven't been to,
and the one's I'll never find
the dreams, the streets, the skies--
that I'll never get to see
about the books I'll never read,
and the ones I'll never write
the things left hidden in margins--
one true sentence, is all it takes
about the people that came before me,
Fitzgerald, Ginsberg, Poe
and Salinger's being sorry--
for the innocence I can't save
about the songs that never will be written,
and the sad ones already here
the broken kids, with broken beats--
looking for love in a light that burns
my broken hand holds this pen,
to pen this broken poem
about living, about loving--
about the next breath we pray we'll find
...
"shining like a diamond"
shining like a diamond,
as it gathers in my eye
as it slides on down my cheek,
and I don't know why I cry
my broken hands hold this pen,
to pen this broken poem
about drowning, about reaching--
about a rescue that'll never come
about all my empty words,
and all the words that I can't say
the scribbled lines, lacking eloquence--
and the cliches I cling to tightly
about the stories inside my head,
that never will find paper
and the ones I don't even mean for--
that make it for better, make it for worse
about the wind outside, that's howling,
that blows away the sunlight
and the grass that wets my feet--
fresh from morning dew
about all their broken hearts,
and mine, more shattered than all
all the faces I can't forget--
as their eyes shine through the night
about the places I haven't been to,
and the one's I'll never find
the dreams, the streets, the skies--
that I'll never get to see
about the books I'll never read,
and the ones I'll never write
the things left hidden in margins--
one true sentence, is all it takes
about the people that came before me,
Fitzgerald, Ginsberg, Poe
and Salinger's being sorry--
for the innocence I can't save
about the songs that never will be written,
and the sad ones already here
the broken kids, with broken beats--
looking for love in a light that burns
my broken hand holds this pen,
to pen this broken poem
about living, about loving--
about the next breath we pray we'll find
...
"shining like a diamond"
shining like a diamond,
as it gathers in my eye
as it slides on down my cheek,
and I don't know why I cry
"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>
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Random Name
- Oskar Winner: 2007
- Posts: 10134
- Joined: 8/16/2003, 2:57 pm
- Location: New Finland
Thats so fantastically depressing.-
trentm32
- Oskar Winner: 2005
- Posts: 2272
- Joined: 3/17/2002, 2:51 pm
- Location: my heart is in New York.
- Contact:
"Paris in the '20's"
jazz in the air,
as the tabs run to the sky
everyday royalty roam the streets,
and they barely have to try
high ideals and bohemia,
filled their minds, and filled their hearts
art and liquor, never-ending,
as they lavishly played their parts
aviators and language,
neon lights before the crash
the world, it was their oyster,
an American colony, to forever last
jazz in the air,
as the tabs run to the sky
everyday royalty roam the streets,
and they barely have to try
high ideals and bohemia,
filled their minds, and filled their hearts
art and liquor, never-ending,
as they lavishly played their parts
aviators and language,
neon lights before the crash
the world, it was their oyster,
an American colony, to forever last
"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>
that's very good. good use of imagery. i'm not usually a fan of rhyming poetry, but i like this poem.
apologies, i know this thread was originally trent's, but i was inspired to write by some of his poems (which is a big feat considering i've had writer's block for two years), and also, i don't really want to make another thread.
so here's a lovelorn poem from a single girl on valentine's day. i don't generally mind being single, but for some reason today it's unbearable.
<b><u>Daydreams</b></u>
Like a stray brook
Unseen whispers babble in my ear
Touch my skin and stroke my hair
Spouting incomplete syllables of wonder
They court my attention extravagantly
Spin gossamer threads around my eyes
And tell fragmented tales that vanish when I blink
They taunt and tease, playfully cruel
Vague dreams of unfounded intimacy
apologies, i know this thread was originally trent's, but i was inspired to write by some of his poems (which is a big feat considering i've had writer's block for two years), and also, i don't really want to make another thread.
so here's a lovelorn poem from a single girl on valentine's day. i don't generally mind being single, but for some reason today it's unbearable.
<b><u>Daydreams</b></u>
Like a stray brook
Unseen whispers babble in my ear
Touch my skin and stroke my hair
Spouting incomplete syllables of wonder
They court my attention extravagantly
Spin gossamer threads around my eyes
And tell fragmented tales that vanish when I blink
They taunt and tease, playfully cruel
Vague dreams of unfounded intimacy
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trentm32
- Oskar Winner: 2005
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Whoa; that's pretty good. I dig the visuals in it. Let's go make a "Depressed on Valentine's Day" thread 
"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>