Such is that which is another;
things we cannot live without,
a soul bonded to something
tethered upon this Earth.
That which is, all but
what its true nature claims;
everything it portays
is all but what reality states.
A fountain of words
merged to the page.
Starlight dancing across
the glittering panes,
of a left-open window.
Moonlight reflections
subdued atop rippling waves
of a silent lake.
Soft paw prints left;
the markers in the sand.
Rolling green moores akin to the sea;
sprinkled in {mock}faerie dust.
Metallic trees, or so they appear,
by the no-light of midnight hues.
Nothing is as it seems
by the light of the night.
And all is that which
we will never know,
by the bright of day.
Author notes
I started this a while back, then saved it on my laptop and forgot about it. I just saw it again now.
So, I finished it. I hope it makes sense.
It's rather personal. I will explain if asked.
A contest entry
- AP's Best Prewrites by lowercase prelude.
800 points, ended July 22, 2008, 75 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comment honestly please. But don't be rude. CONSTRUCTIVE CRISTISM is welcome. But don't bash me; I work hard.
Comments
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the was great. had an abstract sort of feel to, like it could be interpreted many ways. this was good.
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this has some really effective imagery and i particularly like the line 'soft paw prints left/the markers in the sand' - reminds me of how temporary our existence actually is. one small niggle, some of the lines seem a tad out of synch because of the punctuation, you may want to think about using more enjambement to aid the naturally gentle flow i feel this poem cries out for. it's such a softly written descripton that encapsulates personal feelings that so much definite punctuation can jar in places. all in all this is an effective write, thanks for sharing.
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I'll look into it. Thanks for the advice.
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