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T O P I C R E V I E WAyeletIn Solitude of Us There is life to be lived,but one may not know what time it is,and again, perhaps it's bestto forget our clockwise waysand abandon ourselves to the windMy parents, they're like grown up kids,My kids are not yet to be born,Perhaps they had been, through my deeds,Perhaps I'll never knowAnd it may be best this way,to forget ourselves completelywhen the next moment arrives and we arebereft of memoriesOnly a humming melody shall lead usand light so white shall take usawayFor I believe in a songand I believe in your handThe soft yet firm touchreminds meThere is a homeThere is a place our footsteps createCall it a visionAn earthy mansionA heavenly bonfirekeeping us warm as the night drifts away,draws the curtain away,pulls the blanket awayWe are safein each other's arms,in nakedness of spiritin solitude of usAnd I know all that whilealoneThrough the words I writeI make sense shiver and go.PisceanDreamI absolutely love this. It feels like you are walking in a park and are bombarded with both your endless thoughts and external stimuli. Love and birds chirping, nostalgia and the playful screams of children, reflection and the barking of dogs.Wonderful. RandallGood stuff.AyeletThank you PisceanDream and Randall!PisceanDream, I actually was in a different scenario when I wrote this, I was near a sleeping friend, and I was quiet and restless at the same time. But I am no stranger to strolling in parks . It is both nostalgic and wishful, if I may confess. But nostalgic in the sense of eons, not years.mirage29Love it! Eternity... There is life to be lived,but one may not know what time it is,and again, perhaps it's bestto forget our clockwise waysand abandon ourselves to the wind... Only a humming melody shall lead usand light so white shall take usaway....For I believe in a songand I believe in your handThe soft yet firm touchreminds meThere is a homeThere is a place our footsteps createCall it a vision...I was very taken by your poem. I grew inside from it. Dec 26 was an important anniversary day for me (albeit, sad).Poems. Words.. to grow on.
There is life to be lived,but one may not know what time it is,and again, perhaps it's bestto forget our clockwise waysand abandon ourselves to the wind
My parents, they're like grown up kids,My kids are not yet to be born,Perhaps they had been, through my deeds,Perhaps I'll never know
And it may be best this way,to forget ourselves completelywhen the next moment arrives and we arebereft of memoriesOnly a humming melody shall lead usand light so white shall take usaway
For I believe in a songand I believe in your handThe soft yet firm touchreminds meThere is a homeThere is a place our footsteps createCall it a visionAn earthy mansionA heavenly bonfirekeeping us warm as the night drifts away,draws the curtain away,pulls the blanket awayWe are safein each other's arms,in nakedness of spiritin solitude of us
And I know all that whilealoneThrough the words I writeI make sense shiver and go.
Wonderful.
PisceanDream, I actually was in a different scenario when I wrote this, I was near a sleeping friend, and I was quiet and restless at the same time. But I am no stranger to strolling in parks .
It is both nostalgic and wishful, if I may confess. But nostalgic in the sense of eons, not years.
There is life to be lived,but one may not know what time it is,and again, perhaps it's bestto forget our clockwise waysand abandon ourselves to the wind...
Only a humming melody shall lead usand light so white shall take usaway....
For I believe in a songand I believe in your handThe soft yet firm touchreminds meThere is a homeThere is a place our footsteps createCall it a vision...
I was very taken by your poem. I grew inside from it. Dec 26 was an important anniversary day for me (albeit, sad).
Poems. Words.. to grow on.
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