|
|
Post by mfwilkie on Jan 10, 2008 12:26:35 GMT -5
Days limp past. And hurt remains.
Can't spin time to change the truth:
that pain restrains what days remain
since green went black. What followed? Blue.
Pain limps on; its stain, unseen,
devours days; it mars the view
and earns no praise for its refrains
of ticking truth—pain is you
until blue yields to green—
until truth yields to truth—
supports itself. Is time a rock?
|
|
|
|
Post by MichaelFirewalker on Jan 10, 2008 15:05:14 GMT -5
no, beloved one...it is a bird, a white dove, and it is ever lifting you, as your true wealth grows, and grows, and grows
if you ask them to, your guardian angels will sever those chords that attach that pain to you, allowing only the love to remain
that is one of their specialities
mick
|
|
|
|
Post by David Nelson Bradsher on Jan 10, 2008 16:12:18 GMT -5
Hi Mags. Since this is mostly in meter, but has a couple of things that I think can improve it, please forgive my rewrite and take or discard whatever you wish.
The days limp past; the hurt remains.
I can't spin time to turn the truth:
that pain restrains what days remain
since green went black. What trailed it? Blue.
My pain limps on; its stain, unseen,
devours days; it mars the view
and earns no praise for its refrains
of ticking truth—the pain is you
until the blue concedes to green—
until the truth concedes to truth—
supports itself. Is time a rock?
|
|
|
|
Post by Ron Wallace (Scotshawk) on Jan 11, 2008 18:58:11 GMT -5
Very well enjoyed on my part, I do like some of David's ideas, especially the opening lines. Regardles the paper bags are piling up rapidly, and I love 'em. Ron
|
|
