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Post by Dragondrake on Jun 18, 2009 2:31:13 GMT -5
I've tinkered with one of my poems that I never liked, and I've found what it should be. This should be new to you guys, even though it is one of the first poems I ever started. The idea is of a man who lost his love The Poet, who he can only see again through her poems hidden away on a dusty shelf. This was never me, but I felt like it was a chance to know how someone else would feel.
Also, the poem tends to change rythm as the speaker thinks about her works. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fading Memories By Daniel Evans
Can any prose, As one may pose, Make me to yearn for home? I cannot say What time or day, When I will end my roam.
No prose, I suppose, But what of her rhyme: but what of that time?
Songs in slumber, out of mind; Doors to laughter, all but lost. If I seek them, I will find The Poet, gone, already crossed. Do I dare look through a door, A portal to a better time? My voice is weary; spirit, poor. I live a fool, in pantomime.
I did not cut the road I tread. There lay no marks of what’s ahead. Before I go—just one last time— Send from above, your love, in rhyme.
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