My TP poem - Page 8

c.andrew.h · #71 (**permalink**) 03-10-2008, 08:21 PM

All you know of a shadow; is how they make you feel. All you can see of a whispering being; is a knowledge tha's very real. The whole story may be hollow; at least to your own eyes, but the soul travels as far as it needs to go; to tell you it's alive. And your spirit makes me smile, everytime you speak; I know our flight of thought is worthwhile, for you're the light that blankets the bleak.

Any narrowly new avails; sets the wind against the sails, my friend; I hope your life sparkles like comets trails.

This poem is for Anna.

ZeldaGameLover · #72 (**permalink**) 03-11-2008, 04:50 AM

thats beautiful c. andrew h.! :)

c.andrew.h · #73 (**permalink**) 03-20-2008, 03:38 PM

Vampiric Flower:

Forever night, the lie that binds, the soul to shadows; swallows minds, and deepens shallows, till the glow of mornings light. Ventricals stealing energy, blighted seminal seething effigy, your elegy reveals your pain, and eternally concretes your place in life, if life could be considered halfened, as is unbalanced by the maddening fright.

Second sight, the secret shows; that with the light; the prison grows, but will the truth reveal to those that live among the heavy shadows, that there is hope? One could only know, if we were Gods, but if we were; we wouldn't starve, we wouldn't shake from cold, but see our faces in the stars. Forever we may never know.

The rose steals power from the sun, or it's givin freely from it's loving rays, either way; an idea's on the run, across my mind I see the fun of ''days''. How does it even grow? With taken energy. Have I not taken that? That which never lasts of course, but the flower takes consistently, with no victim left to grieve, so my thought is now to take it from the source.

The sun feeds the field; the field feeds the beast, the mortal takes the lives of all, in greed the selfish feast, and of that monsters aura; we eat. The sun is in that mortal creatures blood, intrenched among it's shallow viens, so why do I burn when on the run, through streets among it's luminous rays? Is my mind just conditioned by the liars to be that way?

The gazers stare at the source; and soak the power in, and I feel a deep discourse for the memories of where I've been, from night and blood and death I want divorce. Humans take more lives than circumstance, accidents seem to pale comparitively, to say I am a monster is perchance a hypocritic triviality. You seek my heart, with stake, but at least I have some love in mine, so on this day I'll place myself in veiw of all the spectral wealth of the mornings blessed sunshine, and if I sink to hell; at least the choice was mine. But I don't think I will, because now; the sun is mine!

c.andrew.h · #74 (**permalink**) 03-24-2008, 08:30 PM

Crystal Night:

Perchance to seek the lonely eye, the fall there in should I consent?
A dream I wish to feel more in, should I; perhaps I shant, but the
shadows cry; ''give in'', 'though the future cries ''repent''. A trumpets
call, of all intwined, in trestled vines, my soul replies ''I cannot
feel the wind inside; the echoing of glories prize''. Ah yeah; was kind,
the vision of, the mellow fields above the grave, of mornings glowing
here to there, of willows calling to the air, their roots as path thus
paved, for which I walked in spades.

An ebony root became my sea, it's foamy waves awoke my voice, the guestions
to the wall of dreams, spoke back as deeply as the sea, itself, and I inside
that wealth rejoiced triumphantly. But still I see; a flicker run amidst
the leaves, outside my sight by inches, but I see. Hairs like tiny eyes
stand up to feel the breeze; to see. That shadowed mist, with speed stays hid,
but sends a silent message in a feeling of a vioce within: ''resist''. Does this
now pertain to this; plight of vines that carress my wrists? That tighter sqeeze
with every sip, and sink to depths of mossy earth and I with it.

How deeply should I go? What if I don't return? The voice is mine, from deep inside,
it's warning is; ''the fire lights the way but also burns''. I could get burned, but
still I go, there're things that I must know, but I'll walk slow. Shall via doors I'll
leave when it's too hot, but until then I'll course this endless plot, as if I were
of ice in cauldrons lot. So see you when I do; I'll bring a gift when I return, maybe
I'll be back by noon, but now I walk and burn.

silent Lion · #75 (**permalink**) 05-02-2008, 10:57 AM

Wow, this stuff's good. You've mastered rhyme and rhythm pretty well, it reads like poetry and flows like prose. I bow to you sir! *bows*

Lightning Cloud · #76 (**permalink**) 07-03-2008, 06:32 PM

Only one word for this,Awesome!

c.andrew.h · #77 (**permalink**) 08-09-2008, 06:13 PM

Many they say are called in, but few are chosen still, but they say a great man makes great men, then why choose ''few'' to fight on the hill? I think Pride is the culprit, that makes a hero stand tall, so tall that they can't see the forest, so high that the others fall.

One is vigilante; a few are known as a league, but the purest power lies in the masses, a ''revolution'' is what we need! Everyone wants to wear the mask, but the ones who do know all to well; that a hero alone is a soul lost in hell. Too much pain and too much loss, a target, a sheild, a tool, so why not lose the ego and make the world your jewel? You may win a few wars, but ''we'' can rule.