Wrote this a while back. It's a sestina, for those of you who might be interested in poetic structure/form.
Still haven't been able to find a suitable title for it.. Any suggestions?
where intensely dazzling, white crystals flow down, they're made of snow
I feel everything being covered up, a consoling layer settling inside
A layer so soft, like the rosy petals of spring and summer flowers
glowing in its prime, waiting for its own turn to bloom
Walking and waiting I am, on the road, as the only
You can try to imagine, but that only
will make you think of singing a song to lure forth winter
To make it mount and bloom
out of snow
A time where there are no flowers
but yet, you sense them inside
We sit in the house, unharmed inside
what it is we think of, we think of and to only
demonstrate how flowers
can make one feel in winter
You might find a lone blossom even though outside everything is covered by snow
Still we wonder, when is it going to be out turn to bloom
A solitary, flayed person sitting in the corner will never bloom
for he has never healed inside
We feel his soul like we see the white layer covering up the truth, a layer of ashen snow
what does anything help, for it is only
that one dim time in winter
We bear in our minds to have felt the joy and miraculous wonder of flowers
We are the flowers
Those who only bloom
When the white season is here, the winter
That is when we learn and liberate what we have inside
And then only
We are as light and free as snow
Snow
flowers
only
bloom
inside
winter
We, the flowers, glow when we're triggered by the snow
to bloom and ride up in our pride of winter, we surely are illuminated inside to shine outwards
This is the only time we feel like we do inside
Poetry by Cam
Read 769 times
Editors' choice
Written on 2010-09-10 at 22:45
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Still haven't been able to find a suitable title for it.. Any suggestions?
Untitled
Oh, how I long for that murky, mysterious month of winterwhere intensely dazzling, white crystals flow down, they're made of snow
I feel everything being covered up, a consoling layer settling inside
A layer so soft, like the rosy petals of spring and summer flowers
glowing in its prime, waiting for its own turn to bloom
Walking and waiting I am, on the road, as the only
You can try to imagine, but that only
will make you think of singing a song to lure forth winter
To make it mount and bloom
out of snow
A time where there are no flowers
but yet, you sense them inside
We sit in the house, unharmed inside
what it is we think of, we think of and to only
demonstrate how flowers
can make one feel in winter
You might find a lone blossom even though outside everything is covered by snow
Still we wonder, when is it going to be out turn to bloom
A solitary, flayed person sitting in the corner will never bloom
for he has never healed inside
We feel his soul like we see the white layer covering up the truth, a layer of ashen snow
what does anything help, for it is only
that one dim time in winter
We bear in our minds to have felt the joy and miraculous wonder of flowers
We are the flowers
Those who only bloom
When the white season is here, the winter
That is when we learn and liberate what we have inside
And then only
We are as light and free as snow
Snow
flowers
only
bloom
inside
winter
We, the flowers, glow when we're triggered by the snow
to bloom and ride up in our pride of winter, we surely are illuminated inside to shine outwards
This is the only time we feel like we do inside
Poetry by Cam
Read 769 times
Editors' choiceWritten on 2010-09-10 at 22:45
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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