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What I feel for you
A rumbling crack in an emotional thunderstorm
Echoing inside my wispy mind
The reflective boom of forgotten memories
The psychological sensations of physical inebriations
The presence can’t fade as the memories once did
Suffering, I’ve felt, smothering my very core
I run through a path with no nooks or crannies
No reclusive place in which to hide
Never finding
A perceived reality of conforming ideals
No calm place secluded from your presence
Not a glimmering glint of emotional turmoil
Will I spill aloft
Not a fragmenting figment of mental strife
Will I suffer
Not anything
Will there be
No, nothing, never
Will you posses
Any ungiven gift from me
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| That's what makes our work so genuine...honey, we all have rough patches or just straight out shit for luck. It builds character...adds to our craft, no matter our artistic avenues. Unfortunately, if you're like me Patrick, I have way too many irons in the fire at once leaving me accomplishing less. However, to get back to my 1st comment...you left me feeling your sadness which is very honest & forthright. That is something I look for when reading. I certainly hesitate reading of cutsie puppies & kittens.lol. Talk later. Bebe |
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| its only through pain that we truly know we are alive, i think someone once said that or something similar to it. i dont know how that affects my writing, i just want others to understand that when theyve been somewhere, maybe a physical place, or somewhere inside their own minds, that the thoughts theyve had are not only their own, that other people can relate, and even though there are times when you feel the world exists on another plane, that you are the only one holding a candle in the dark, that when there seems to be no end to the pain in their lives, there are others, other people who have been there, there are people who share in their experiences as no one is ever truly alone, so much as we dont try to run away from the truths in our lives and can come to realize the reality of the world around us. it may seem that we are alone at times, holding a solitary candle in the night, but darkness has an end and if we just look over to the edge of our world we may just find others grouped together and with their conjoined candles may the sun rise on the horizon. sorry i rant sometimes, i just dont want you to think that the subject matter of my poetry is the only reason i write and the only emotions i feel, im generally a happy person, i guess, or at least i try to be, ive just been through a rough patch or two in my short life. patrick |
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| Sadly, your obvious heartache greatly attributes to your art-you are immensely talented-keep it flowing. Best, Bebe |
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