And...
trembling at the sound of it's own melody,
tears seeped down the strings of the violin crying ,
sticky curcified colored tears of music dying ...
The firebird, the wounded violin,
the rose, the whispering wind,
these relics of my art,
were only symptoms of a sorrowing heart.
For the sake of my ardency soul-
I'll take my little gods and go,
and I swear-
I will not take up the pen,
Until God comes back again....
Author notes
If my writing makes no sense it means that there are writings about sense.
Comments
1 - 9 of 9
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Oh. This is an interesting little poem that you have penned in here. I read your author notes and I had to laugh. I loved your logic. And no I don't think I understand what all you were meaning about this but I did find it fun to read and I just kind of went with the flow. I thought you did a good job of expressing yourself.
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beautiful
I couldnt have put it better myself! I struggle so much with expressing myself! I have the strongest emotions and feel as though im feeling everything magnified! I have tried to write about this feeling of impotence and you just put it so beautifully here! or have i missinterpreted? -
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yes you are right
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led zeppelin-ish
don't know why you aligned it in the middle
gives it an amateur air
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Love it... AwesoMe ,,,yeah till god coMes back........
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to me the violin and the firebird are your previous writings. They were very sad, weeping. I felt they were a tad dark but always a beauty shone inside them.
Your writings have always made perfect sense to me. But I see a huge transformation pouring out from your soul.
transluscent beauty of the heart
evolement of the soul
peacefulness of the mind
I want to give you a big hug sister of my heart
amazing write -
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I love what you have written so far Jally
hugs Moony
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