whynotsin Posted August 30, 2003 Report Posted August 30, 2003 Drops, They splash onto the moist soil, Quiet echoes in forgotten halls, In the darkness a boy weeps His bow slowly crosses the bridge, Deep growls of pain and emotion echo in this quietness, He plays to forget. His pain, His grief, Creating beautiful melodies. In the darkness he can be free, His bow flying faster, His heart pounding, Jumping and pulsating He plays to forget, But he can’t The scorn of a lover, The rejection of a mother, The failure as a father, He plays his fingers bleeding But he plays, His music shaking the entirety of his soul. Nothing to loses His madness consuming, Through out the abode All can hear the pain, Of a forgotten son. Men weep, as the tune spills out into the streets, Women collapse, He slows as his sadness increases, He can’t forget, He never will, So he plays.
Merelas Posted August 30, 2003 Report Posted August 30, 2003 Sad and beautiful all at the same time. Some of the spelling/grammar could be revised, but hey... it was excellent all the same. I was taken by the reality of this poem as well... Because, escaping the pain by writing, or playing, or whatever your personal route is, is something that is very close to home for many... Keep writing, because I was sincerely touched by this and can't wait to feel the same again .
whynotsin Posted September 1, 2003 Author Report Posted September 1, 2003 Thank you for the words. This is one of two new post I have put up. The only two I have put up in like two months. And I feel a bit rusty. lol.
reverie Posted September 1, 2003 Report Posted September 1, 2003 ...yes but what did the music sound like? revery the dreamlost "I turned on the radio and I did not hear a thing(REM)" the dream continues...
whynotsin Posted September 1, 2003 Author Report Posted September 1, 2003 When I wrote it I was thinking about a man playing a base or cello. if that helps.
Recommended Posts