
Originally Posted by
Matt
Ooh, poetry. My least favorite thing in creative writing class last year. My teacher even told us all NOT to try for rhymes. I'll give it a shot.
Lilacs:
A repugnant odor
Shameless beauty
Plucked by filthy hands
Hands drenched
in my blood
my sweat
my tears
Ten years'
memories adrift
in the ocean of loss
its waves tainted
with my blood
my sweat
my tears
I lay, defeated
in the bloody waves
And a new voice
prods past scars
and seals old scrapes
Dare I gamble again?
Dare I risk my heart?
Dare I accept this sweet smile?
I take the open hand
It smells of lilacs
of innocence, of beauty
of life, of hope
She is the last
to whom I bestow
My blood
my sweat
my tears
Shall I again be lost
in the sea of sorrow?
But for my heart
I do not fear
For it matters not
beside her soul
No revision. Couldn't even see more than 5 lines at a time. This is the kind of thing I'd only write with a lack of sleep and foggy contacts. I dress up a simple, shallow message that I have no experience in myself with amateur poetic language. It's a poem based on stereotypes, now that I think of it. I still haven't re-read it, because I know if I do, I'll probably delete it.
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