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Open Poetry #27
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If Only I Was A Poet
| Open Poetry #27 |
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If Only I Was A Poet |
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RedStoneEB Senior Member
since 2003-06-08
Posts 772uk 
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If only I was a poet, I’d write the thoughts within White-winged angels would sing, a heavenly song Blessing our lifes, With an inner happiness As we’d walk, under a shimmering white moonlit sky Hand in hand, strolling towards the night of passion The bed of roses, crumpled under our weight This dream fades, as tears roll down the page Smearing the ink, a world of fantasy I write The thoughts of you, affect my mind Finally you’re released, stuck on this page As I write the prison, I visited in dreams Ridding myself of memories of you forever Only in dreams, you’d stay by my side And make me smile, as days pasted by But dreams don’t hold your presences Or the taste of your lips, feel of your skin All I can touch, is thoughts of you draining away through my grip Sunlight shines, straight into my mind Awakening, truth that lies inside That you where never there that night The place I dreamt, you wonder free I wonder do you dream a place of me The ink flows dry, reaching the end of a memory Piles of pens litter the desk, each written a memory from my mind If I could spare another pen, id write this memory all over again… |
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| © Copyright 2003 Lee Hepworth - All Rights Reserved | |||
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LeeJ Member Patricius
since 2003-06-19
Posts 13296 |
well then silly, to love this extremely, and to allow it to go away, maybe even push it away is self-destruction and just plain foolish....tell all, to her....my gosh, your a poet if I've ever read one...a truly talented and very sensitive writer. |
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Janet Marie Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554 |
But dreams don’t hold your presences Or the taste of your lips, feel of your skin All I can touch, is thoughts of you draining away through my grip Sunlight shines, straight into my mind Awakening, truth that lies inside That you where never there that night The place I dreamt, you wonder free I wonder do you dream a place of me The ink flows dry, reaching the end of a memory Piles of pens litter the desk, each written a memory from my mind If I could spare another pen, id write this memory all over again… ================================== oh wow...this is excellent..the whole theme and intend of your inspire...as well as the depth of your expression. very well done poet sir!! "I'm good at two things and this is the other one." |
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