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| Open Poetry #7 |
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Master Senior Member
since 1999-08-18
Posts 1867Boston, MA 
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Her gentle fingers turn the handle The creaking door gives way to her I find my heart in ardent stir How slowly burns the molten candle! O, how she whispers in the night!— No Muse such words would ever render, What beauty stands before my sight?-- She’s but a vision of my madness The madness that I can’t subside She comes to sympathize my sadness And I await her with delight I lay there listening with gladness. She says that all will be alright, And that my pain will not abide. And I am overfilled with life Which has erased the grief and strife Of past commotion. At first light, With joy I calmly rise from bed, The world awakes before my sight I look toward my day ahead. I yearn to live, then realize That I’m alone. Until the night, I recollect her shining eyes And melancholy tears I shed. |
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| © Copyright 2000 Andrey Kneller - All Rights Reserved | |||
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serenity blaze Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738 |
Stunning--and dare I say it? Masterful. |
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LadySofia Member
since 2000-05-16
Posts 238FL., USA |
This poem really tickled my fancy. The rhythm and rhyme were both well-executed. Such a beautiful and melancholy piece indeed. ^_^ LadySofia "To the innocent and ancient ones, the sparks which light our fires." Amanda Piatt |
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Marge Tindal 
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384Florida's Foreverly Shores |
Master~ Positively breathtaking ! How much I enjoy your journey of sentiment. 'I find my heart in ardent stir' Yeah, me too. ~*Marge*~ ~*The pen of the poet never runs out of ink, as long as we breathe.*~ [email protected] |
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