Sunday, February 13, 2011

more from the past

Love, the sweetest killer
that robs the body of it's sleep
The heart can only take so much
So there become a monk
And hear your heart beating with rhythm
Monotonous with despair

While a young maiden's heart
beats more and more abrupt
as her beloved lingers on
with musing of tenderness and fond

And now her heartbeats' faltering
Her precious prince has gone
and now she's trapped in crying
sobs spilling on her soul
Her love is dead and done.

**Another one I've dug up from my first book (age 15) looking back on a lot of these first works I find I had such raw and vividly drawn out emotions but very poor form and construction of the actual poem. Just like a teenager not willing to follow any structure whatsoever! The message was much more important to get across...it still is really.**

No comments:

Post a Comment