i want to write

Another old poem I found in my dusty attic. Once again, the picture is not mine and I own nothing of it. It portrays my past life and all the tragedies in it and how writing freed me from it. It's a great poem, I think, but you tell me.

i want to write of the meadow i saw last summer

or of the snow i felt last winter

i want to write of my dreams

then patch and sew them up into a story

like a quilt with intricate designs of everything

that matters to me

 

i want to write of the stormy fall

with the wind whipping gently

around my face

my hair carried by a light breeze

taking my mind far of into a perfect world

 

i want to write

of everything I’ve ever known

everything I’ve ever seen in my life

all about the borders unknown

and the unsurpassed fields of gold

rain

and snow

 

i long to let my dreams fly

onto the fresh clear parchment

and make my words

come to life

i want them to come true

as my thoughts pass through

my breast

course through my veins

and finally enable my hand

to write of the spectacular wonders

only i think of

 

i want to write of things

people don’t consider anymore

the simple things

that makes our complex world

go round

like a blooming flower

or a setting sun

disappearing behind the vast ocean

 

i dream of the day

the day my feelings will be set free

the day i will write again

the day i know is drawing very near—

all i must do is hope

and

believe

and

wait

 

for the time will come

when music plays endlessly

and people shall dance in the streets

where every tear shall be wiped

clear off their face

and their soul will be emancipated

and dignified to its utmost cleanse

 

i want to write of that day, the day i shall be free

Author's Note

Tell me your heart, as always. In this poem, though, I don't really capitalize my letters. That's my style in this poem, so it's not a mistake of mine, but a intentional kinds of poetry I write.

Reviews

[LostinKristina]

again I love it.
the words flow together extremely well.
great job. (: