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The Aire of HerI. I do declare but a sole heart, to be the double rhythm to pass each day, in unique singularity. And what mellow winds to tune the sun beneath as a border, my eyes and ears to rotate my senses in her direction. They fuse the future, once moving forward to be with the present. True, for the eternal settings to break forever’s demise are frozen in the frame unto which her hand is held in mine.The Aire of Her
II. Do you ever converse in thoughts with your reflection in a window, lit by the lamp in the back, the omnipotent night beyond the sill? &
by ~xxmagnumhaloxx
GrassI walked across the sidewalk cracks as though I were their Messiah, and I listened to my breathing, heavy and burdened by cold.Grass
But not fully – my attention touched the lamps that walked by my side watching me securely, making the half-sleepy leaves on branches extend into shadowy puppetry. That was night.
By day, I can undress the tree’s arms with my eyes. I can clearly see them – they are the stuff of nature, ancient, still monuments of creation. They are the arbiters of the sunlit air, for they watch as I rush about and
by ~xxmagnumhaloxx
JavelinsWhen the graphite is thrown about across the paper lines, like javelins, one hears the noteworthy suggestions –Javelins
(When Auden spoke to me thus far, for me to drop the strained items. He told me to, and I did dance. I remember now to dance while the earth is alive.)
I am to seek such a binding theme through the voices in songs without notes. Eyes that complete the dancing and journey between the letters can find my sacred symbols carved inside the smooth printing.
The reading is finely woven and brims across the simple skull.
by ~xxmagnumhaloxx
White TableWhat better way is there to celebrate our lifelong victories than with all five senses? Here, a table laid out before all of us, a grandiose exclusiveness without invitation. There is charity. Rise up, there are no fallen heroes here. We will forget, for now, our living histories. We are the writers, yes - we are the explorers of the new text.White Table
The room, where we all fill seats, is filled with a pale English,
of thoughts that blend, and go through the ears. It seems to go through completely. I saw
by ~xxmagnumhaloxx
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Colts Neck, NJ
- Interests: Kaity!, my doggy, poetry, ska, short fiction
- Favourite movie: Princess Bride
- Favourite band or musician: Currently: Rush, Streetlight Manifesto
- Favourite genre of music: Ska, classical, world, alternative, metal, Jrock, Cpop
- Favourite artist: Donato Giancolo
- Favourite poet or writer: Ted Kooser, Anton Chekhov
- Favourite photographer: The Mjag, obv.
- Favourite style of art: Romantic, nostalgic
- MP3 player of choice: Zen
- Wallpaper of choice: Right now, an Avatar wallpaper
- Favourite game: OKAMI!, Alice, SC II and III, Shadow of the Colossus, Tekken
- Favourite gaming platform: P.C, PS2
- Favourite cartoon character: Ishida Uryuu
- Personal Quote: "Humility before honor" - teh Bible, paraphrased verse
- Tools of the Trade: Reading and criticism
- Website: http://sites.google.com/site/crestfallenlyric/
- Email: chou4@tcnj.edu
- AIM: twotonedSKAzn
- MSN: volcanic_hippo@hotmail.com
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beware.
Ya I read grass dude, and your poems are getting gayer.
Like that first one you had on here, I barely knew what was going on, so I'm like. Hellsya, that's good poetry. But dude, you wrote a poem about grass. That's pretty lame. Write better poetry. For my sister. Or else...
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