One day in Paris
Mon, 13 Aug 2007 at 10:24am
untitled
How quaint our talks have become
You with your glass of tea,
Me with a cup of Rum
I wonder aloud just how can I let you down
You drank your tea without pause
I stared at my rum and frowned
This gap between us hasn't really grown
It's always been this large
You've just never known.
So in this quiet august morning
In the light of the window sill
No one will be mourning
Because we will sit here still.
Eight others like this.
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Now that's a pretty poem. Nice meter and classy rhyme scheme. I like the emotion, too. I get the feeling of two long-time lovers who's relationship is obviously dying, drinking out on a balcony, while some sad, European saxophone piece place faintly in the background.
Or something. I dunno.
It's a very nice piece, though. Good to have another skilled poet 'round here. I hope you enjoy your stay and please PLEASE pay no attention to pcd_melody.
plus one
Wow, an A* on your first piece. You're gonna have bitches before you know it. Just remember, untel you take over the world you too are my bitch. Please don't take that the wrong way. It's just the way things work.
:Inthecafeteria; Spot on, except for maybe the saxophone. I find silence to be more dramatic, or maybe some sad AM radio 1940's blues in the backround. The situation that inspired this wasn't nearly as dramatic as I make it, but embellishment is the pepper of good writing.
:purplehaze; As for the last stanza? I can only assume you mean to ask why I broke pattern. I suppose it's because originally I may have been writing a sonnet or something, but simply couldn't hold it together.
To everyone else: I'm really new here, and I'm not sure how to post direct replies. Thank you for your support; I'm inspired to write again.
There are no direct replies. You just kinda do what you did above.
Now I really like this. It feels like a sweet summer evening (obvious, for it's August) on the porch. It feels nice.