Tag Archives: deadpoet88

Letters

Letters by deadpoet88

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The ink bled through the pores of parchment,
And the words written came from the depth of the soul,
Hoping the warmth radiates through the thin paper
With black words scratched with a feather quill.

Late into the night, the words did flow
From ink pot to glistening lines by candlelight,
Until the hands grew weary, and the thoughts numb,
Though the heart was still filled to the brim with words.

Slowly the candle wax melted, as hands kept writing
Till warnings of solitary smoke filled the room,
The signature was signed with reluctance,
And the letter folded delicately, the envelope sealed.

Maybe the words did not sound quite as the heart felt,
But the soul still shone through the ink,
And the warmth of the hand that wrote the words,
Could still be felt as its fragrance filled the room.

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Musings on a Rainy Afternoon

Abode by deadpoet88

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The clouds formed a carpet in the sky,
Shedding drops of heaven to the ground,
The wind danced like my fickle mind,
Changing direction with every sound,
And I sat dreamily watching the cold wet tar,
As a flower fallen, was picked up by the wind,
And rolled down the pavement before it stopped,
So enchanting was the moment,
Mesmerized, my eyes lingered to it constantly,
Though I knew the wind had dropped it home.

I sat there listening to the voices of children talking,
As friends who sat beside me talked of news,
Yet I heard nothing, but the sound of silence
Trying hard to be heard, but still quite amused.
The gooseberry flavor lingered on my tongue,
Recently stolen from the garden nearby,
The taste was tangy, my tongue dry,
As I sat there dreamily pondering over life,
Life was sour, life was bitter, and oh so sweet,
And then I thought of you and smiled.

Sadness crept into my heart in faint traces.
As I stared at the poor man’s abode across the street,
It was desolated and empty, with a shiny lock,
Rusting, and so fragile, as if about to fall,
Yet among the riches, stood this poor man’s life,
Possessions meant nothing in these times of strife,
But his world was hidden behind that decaying door,
Through which he must have crawled every night,
To lie awake until the thoughts clouded his mind
And put him in a state of sweet slumber.

The wind blew, and took my mind for a ride,
To unknown faces, and far off places,
And a beautiful sadness took over my soul,
Threatening to steal away my feelings so cold.
The voices from the distance came to life,
As if awakening me from a dream,
But my heart was light, my thoughts dreamy,
As we walked back to our box of reality,
The fallen flowers floating in puddles,
Kept me from forgetting that sad, beautiful emotion.

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