Writings

This topic contains 20 replies, has 8 voices, and was last updated by  lisaann1213 2 years, 7 months ago.

Viewing 6 posts - 16 through 21 (of 21 total)
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  • #58826

    :blank: That it will.

    #64214

    [strong]There Is[/strong]

    There is nothing,
    Only this,
    As we fade into the mist.

    There’s no time,
    Only now,
    As we wander through the crowd.

    There’s no rythm,
    Only beats,
    As we walk across the streets.

    There’s no reason,
    Only rhyme,
    As we mark the ticking time.

    There’s no lyric,
    Only song,
    As we merrily roll along.

    There’s no truth,
    Only lies,
    As we sadly say goodbye.

    #64218

    I like the repetition, and the soft rise and fall given by the differing lengths. Makes it seem full of life, and then almost give a hush or a whisper. Like it’s drawing attention to the almost silence.

    I love the gentle caress of wind as it rushes past me,
    Whipping hair into frantic spirals.

    The freedom of hearing aids slipped into pockets,
    No longer straining for sound,
    Instead open to feel a thousand vibrations,

    Steady, rhythmic beat of my heart,
    The draw of breath,
    Bum, ba, bum, ba-pop! of feet on muddy ground.

    Tinny smell of sun on cold skin,
    Faint whiff of peat on the air,
    Fresh oxygen blowing past and through me.

    All too soon I must return to the human world,
    But when I do, I return both less and more than my former self.

    ^^ nothing finalised or owt. Kinda made it up on the lam as I was doing a new trail the other day.

    #64223

    Beautiful.

    #64225

    Beautiful gifts you both have, Papillio and Lisa Ann.

    Please share more.

    #64229

    I like the repetition, and the soft rise and fall given by the differing lengths. Makes it seem full of life, and then almost give a hush or a whisper. Like it’s drawing attention to the almost silence.

    I love the gentle caress of wind as it rushes past me,
    Whipping hair into frantic spirals.

    The freedom of hearing aids slipped into pockets,
    No longer straining for sound,

    Steady, rhythmic beat of my heart,
    The draw of breath,
    Bum, ba, bum, ba-pop! of feet on muddy ground.

    Tinny smell of sun on cold skin,
    Faint whiff of peat on the air,
    Fresh oxygen blowing past and through me.

    All too soon I must return to the human world,
    But when I do, I return both less and more than my former self.

    ^^ nothing finalised or owt. Kinda made it up on the lam as I was doing a new trail the other day.

    I like how you structured this. You feel connected to your senses.

Viewing 6 posts - 16 through 21 (of 21 total)

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