These strings no longer,
Play the melody it once bore,
Oh why, does it have to linger,
In this foresaken breath?
Once the decision was so clear,
To play the rocks or the serenade,
Oh why, the rocks took over,
And the serenade left to bleed.
Sooner than later,
These strings start to rust,
Over the hot humid air,
No longer a trust that holds.
To choose the serenade,
Is a hard piece to master,
Oh why, didn't it come first,
When these strings shone.
These strings are now dull,
No longer shines like before,
Oh why, they never shone,
When the time was right.
Copyright 2006 Morgan.
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5 comments:
You are seriously good in poetry Morgy. And I always appreciate poetry.
Dude, that was gd stuff. I didn't noe that u had a literary side 2 ya. Hahahaha. Gd on ya mate!! xD
Cheers,
The ICBM dude.
Opportunity
For thy forsaken,
Under the silver moon,
Many a time,
As Father Time slithered by.
Unwavering,
Uncompromising,
Yet steadily and surely,
Like quiksliver trickled drops.
Yet in this petty hourglass,
A nominal yet sometimes unprized posession envelops,
Ever so menacing,
As its cold white eyes reflect.
Ashes to dust,
Strings to rust,
Anger to lust,
I'm tempted to rhyme with bust.
Live!
For no other day,
Could have been like today,
Nor tomorrow.
I totally ruined the mood with the penultimate stanza!
Enjoy! :D
Im embarrased by the knowledge of my vocabulary.
LOL！
COOL!
keep on goin!
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