If you want to experience this poem PROPERLY, without having limitations of AllPoetry's formatting, go to this link - oxwaiting4youxo.livejournal.com/66341.html
And in the midst of the December sunlight
Not armed with the wisdom of a thousand minds
All she does is slip on her shoes.
They’re not pink this time, and her throat is bare
this road doesn’t twist into the tales of the fairies
or down the pathways of faith -
Life’s never that simple anymore.
And her thoughts float in…
she lives and feeds off memories; her photo albums tell it all
a split-second of sanity, then painted skies she can’t recall
oh, sweet innocence, where does the angel’s melody begin?
play the record back ten years, before her blood committed sin
…and she breathes out – her eyes open -
each ray of gold pours into seas of blue
yet still the moments of the piano plinking
and flashbacks of fantasies flying past
- they’re hanging on a thread -
she’s hanging on one single thread
as the music plays…
like a montage mapping, home in one push of rewind
November’s eve spent laughing – but she’s leaving it all behind –
and while leaving comfort zone, the next road’s playing suicide
somehow without His hand, her mental thoughts start to collide
…and the lyrics fade, a simple tune
to contemplate the former adoration,
Former worship of the One and Only,
Who’s hand was just out of reach, every time
The lamb had lost its way.
And she stumbles…
Across the one life of a seraph, whose story she’s led to believe
But why did Heaven not answer when she begged upon her knees?
And why did the sound of summer dissolve into the winter’s air?
In half a heartbeat, her mind’s controlled by the devil’s prayer
…then she escapes to another nightmare
each corridor turning into the next
until they all melt into a simple image
of horror, jeering, leering
at the one who failed in misery.
And reality dawns…
in her foolish, childish days, one guardian did point the way
then took courtesy to declare the duration of his stay
and in one movement, ripped out all belief this child once held
left her a decade lost, by tombstones, she built up her shell
…as the clock rings eleven-eleven
her veins pulse at one-twenty -
in time to the rhythm of her footsteps .
With no direction or intention
just a map in her mind, and a novel in her heart
her time limit hits zero.
And she runs…
Away from every shattered thought, her anger fuels her dying fire
She blacked an image of the world He made filled with desire
And cremated every song that celebrates this Heaven’s lie
Threw the pages of His scripture into the mere mortal’s sky
…and she cries ‘life’s never that simple anymore.
My road doesn’t twist into tales of the fairies,
Or down the pathways of faith.’
And in the midst of the December moonlight
Not armed with the safety of a thousand prayers
all she does is run away.
Author notes
Yeah, this didn't really work the way I wish it would.
-sigh-
I can't be bothered explaining it. Read into it, make of it what you wish.
Might submit this as my poetry assignment.
Written September 21st, 2006
What did you think
Comments
1 - 10 of 10
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In all its brilliance, very sad indeed. Excellently written piece
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very deep it didnt flow great but good enough i enjoyed reading it
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Deep
This was very deep...you put so much time in this write. Thanks for sharing this and the link. It was all very good.
Kari -
Hi, it could be good but gets a bit confused as if your thoughts were rushing from one thing to another and then back again, it needs a touch of work but could be worth the time, all the best, Di
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It's cool, even though it's quite long. It tells a great story. I had a look at the other version and you're right, it does look better that way. Well done anyway!
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Superb/Fun/Intriguing/Unique
contrary to what the judge said, I think it a great write. The technical side of poetry, form, meter, etc., is the boring side.What counts is the content, the feeling, the emotions evoked within the reader, all of which can take place without the limitations of rigid form and meter. If and when I do a contest I will judge submissions based on what emotions they arouse within me. No matter how technically well written a poem is, if it leaves the reader cold and unfeeling, it is not poetry. I read the original as you suggested, and much preferred your unique format.
Edited on Sep 21, 8:01 because 'Add comments'. -
This is such a beautifully told story and i can really relate to it, i've been christian all my life and gone to church every sunday but now, at 16, i find it so much harder to believe although i know so much more about it. What came so naturally when i was younger now requires a different kind of faith.
I love your use of language as well, you really exploit it with rhymes and alliteration only where it is effective. A lovely piece of writing and thank you for sharing it,
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wow ... i liked it... the disappointment of the girl...the loss of faith... her feeling that she is not forgiven as reflected by her remembering 10 years ago when her blood committed sin. It seems that she has sought forgiveness, but has never believed that she actually attained it...
and her disappointment with God... the loss of protection - sounds like she was abused...by that gaurdian... the loss of innocence...the loss of the fairy tails...
beautiful write...I really enjoyed reading it... -
I like this as it is. I didn't understand it at first but then I got into it and enjoyed reading it. A sad story 'tis true but I think it keeps the reader going.
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needs work
A very sad STORY about a little girl who lost her faith.
Without metrical composition; I see no POEM.
If you are looking for a D minus or an F, submit it as is.
Otherwise, revise what you have into a poem. The subject matter has potential with a little more work. The Poet Percy B. Shelley believed that: "When composition begins, inspiration
is already on the decline." "God makes the poet to make God,and vice versa." Good Luck! Bob 42
Adding your comment:
1 - 10 of 10
4 old applause
