MEMOIRS OF MADNESS
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Poetry

Dark Shadows

6/2/2011

1 Comment

 
From the dark shadows of his soul, a man sits alone in a room 
The dim lights of the chandelier, dance a lover’s dance with the sunlight,
as their shadows watch in amazement. 

In a notebook he scribbles ….

The man stares through a window, lined with red brick. 
Each brick has a memory. 
Every crack is another splinter of his past. 

Each line unraveling another riddle…

Out the window a tree stands firm.
He looks upon the branches and sees the path he has taken. 
The spouting limbs remind him 
that there are so many more to travel.

Each verse a different path….

He sees birds on the window sill and branches of the tree.
Their breasts flex, as their song fills the morning air 
In a moment, they will soar boundless and free…
Through the untamed rapture of life. 

Each page closes another door of the past…

His quill stops, as he gazes upon the hanging Spanish moss …
He wonders if he will live life to its fullest? 
By experiencing the journey of each breath, 
and welcoming new friendships, while cherishing old ones

Or will he….

Close the notebook, leaving 1000 things unspoken,
while fading into dust of the dark shadows in his mind?


1 Comment
the scent
6/2/2011 01:27:39 pm

Not if I have a damn thing to do with it he won`t

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    "Welcome to the place where the splinters of my brain reside.
    Not for the weak, not for the timid nor for the prude." -Mangus Khan

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