Gracefully descending
beneath grey clouds.
Airbourne and gentle,
in his misery
An artist, a dancer,
a poet he's become
telling a story that draws me
to weep.
His life is one memory
compiled of one day.
This tradegy he's become,
identity and name.
Nobody looks, sees with an inside eye
so he creates this picture,
this story, this lie.
A contest entry
- PLEASE! Help me get rid of my points! by Shenanigans.
1000 points, ended May 19, 2008, 36 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Oh man! Such sadness here, and honest too. Excellent flow, and just the right length. I love the 3rd stanza. Great job and good luck in the contest!
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