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Awakening
Contributed by
ediii
on
Thursday, 18th January 2007 @ 06:41:29 PM in AEST
Topic:
abstract
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There is this land were leaves are green
and models look from every screen
and champagne flows and moon always rises
no room for fools no room for crisis.
You wake up with an ocean breeze
when warm soft air fondles your cheeks.
Singy song from buzzy bees
what a morning, so unique.
You walk from bed with cloud soft pillows
to the window bathed in red
soft and smooth light plays like willow's
long leaf branches in heaven bred.
Tear apart the curtains firmly
and let the light fulfill your brain
look out on those waves, so curly
like your thoughts on railway train.
Go down the little stony road
alone, no one else in sight
feel the wind's frivolous ode
to life, freedom, rampancy and night.
Then look around and hear the sound
of the cheerest tones of all
you go there, all your friends around
all is perfect in the vision of a doll.
And you talk and smile, laugh and sing,
in the whitest dress alive
angels on duty happiness will bring
as dolphins up and down will dive.
Under palm trees your love will kiss
those lips from longing so pink
The strong wind wails and palm leaves hiss
after, you are brought to the brink.
You look down the rock in clouds,
with shocked dead eye will see
That the little bugs, the nameless crowds
Are those you know to be.
And you look down and understand
why things are the way they are
while there's no leaving this paradise land
your life is a memoir.
And maybe they will think of you
as of the one with curly hair,
when your lashes cluttered in the wind that blew
and your skin tone was finely fair.
You're in this world where life is fair
and champagne flows like liquid base
your skin is bathed in golden flare
and angels pack your fate briefcase.
Copyright ©
ediii
... [
2007-01-18 18:41:29] (Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Awakening
(User Rating: 1 ) by FRANCO on
Friday, 19th January 2007 @ 08:43:15 AM AEST (User
Info | Send
a Message)
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well written poem with an unique pattern of rhyme that flows to easy the reader.
FRANCO. |
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