|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 05, 2007 5:41 pm
Phantoms A muse’s moon hung low upon the eastern sky Phantoms danced the snow dust in the chill winter wind As I walked in my solitude And marveled at the special of daylights end.
My jacket opens and billows in the night My shadow epic while my mind expands The phantoms flee into the dark Morphing into great white sails as they pass out of sight
Where will they go, these snow dust phantoms? When from my sight they pass into the shade Could I follow, on wings of a flapping cotton cloak And become as ethereal as they seem and fade
Could I too travel on the breeze of winter, And whisper in the ears of those who brave the night? Likewise tell them of a life free of walls and restraints And the cold chaos of our fleeting existence.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Mar 15, 2007 7:49 am
Admittedly, I know very little of poetry, but, by removing the rhyme from the last stanza, you pulled the carpet from uder my feet and left me suspended, waiting for some sort of closure. Also, since you're describing a cycle, even if a surreal one, it feels awkward that the final verse has no stronger connection to the previous ones through that rhyme.
In any case, I loved the ideas and the setting you chose. It could have hardly been more fitting and expressive. I particularly liked the turning point on the first half of the third stanza. ^^
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|