Yes it happens a lot..at times a very beautiful work was up there in my mind
I put it down but it will never come as complete as I had thought of it
once only once I could do it,but before I saved it the light went off
and it was lost ,so I tried for hours again to put it back,but never
never ever will it come back like it came the first time..how depressing
it came in a very distorted way..how this mind works in a very strange way
yes things could fly away from off paper so easy,and we can do nothing about it
I really enjoyed this..
lovely write..
or make you fly away from yourself...I think if our words stand well on their own,
or fly away....that means we have done our best job of giving them life.
j.
I had a poem to post but its been a pleasure revisiting this place. I see your poetry hasn't aged a .. read moreI had a poem to post but its been a pleasure revisiting this place. I see your poetry hasn't aged a bit
3 Years Ago
I am so old now :) you posted? I'll have to go see
...................................... tis the way of the word ... and a perfect observation, captured and now securely pinned to this page for eternity ................ bravo :)
As always, masterfully penned! The other reviewers have covered most of what I would say, but as a personal reference this poem reminded me of when I have written in moonlight, or no light, on a pad at my side in the middle of the night...sometimes pages and pages so not to overwrite something. Then, in the morning i find that I cannot read what was so beautiful in my mind. Those words are gone, flown.
Posted 12 Years Ago
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
12 Years Ago
even if we capture the beautiful thought, express it just the way we imagined it . . . there comes a.. read moreeven if we capture the beautiful thought, express it just the way we imagined it . . . there comes a moment when the whole becomes its own entity and escapes the creator, birds leave the nest, children leave home, and poems fly away
The contradiction. Knowing there is so much going on inside you have to put it down, somewhere, somehow - but then as soon as you do... it's gone. Extremely well expressed.
to the Lost Boys
I am no Wendy;
but my voice brings you back to me.
And you sit around my feet,
anxious for a story
or a kiss.
Listening to my words
spinning adventures,
like so much g.. more..