Memoirs of Time (incomplete)
-
In the arms of the sorrowful midst of ages,
I stood before an album of photographs,
Flipping over the tattered pages,
Fumbling through pictures,
Agony.
The first page were my childhood and my family,
Beneath the yellowish ancient photographs of then,
Was a tale encasing many,
Pain beyond suffering,
Torn.
My father in the high heavens far away from me,
My mother buried deep within the earth,
A hurt always will be,
Swallowing my saliva,
Tears.
The photographs were a painting of time long ago,
A memory that weaved passion in us,
Binding together joy and sorrow,
Whispers of past,
Devoured. -
A very emotional write.
The choice of words clearly reflect the intense emotions youÂ’ve gone through.
The structure of the poem i.e. 9 – 7 – 5 –3 –1 bring the attention of the readers to the last and final word of each stanza, i.e. the focus of each stanza.
I like the way youÂ’ve arranged the poem. Any other particular reasons why youÂ’ve arranged your poem in this manner?
-
Well I was tired of fixed rhymes, so I was working on something catchy. Tried to put the focus on the sadness, the excruciating pain that every single memory brought out. However, I was somehow stucked after the forth verse.Originally posted by DeadPoet:A very emotional write.
The choice of words clearly reflect the intense emotions youÂ’ve gone through.
The structure of the poem i.e. 9 – 7 – 5 –3 –1 bring the attention of the readers to the last and final word of each stanza, i.e. the focus of each stanza.
I like the way youÂ’ve arranged the poem. Any other particular reasons why youÂ’ve arranged your poem in this manner? -
Hmm... Why not try moving from pain to reconciling with your past.
-
hey.. it's good...
i seldom read erm poems.. but thot this is really nice...
-
excellent!!!what can i say....
-
Another poetic rat!Originally posted by ratinacage:excellent!!!what can i say.... -
The second page was littered with pictures of school,
Boys and girls in uniform playing together,
Learning things on a stool,
Full of vigour,
Innocence.
My teacher who blessed us with the necessary knowledge,
A wonderful gift that enriched a lifetime,
Creating many geniuses and craftsmen,
Touch of magic,
Ideas.
The photographs were a memoir of time we took,
A medium that refreshed our short memories,
Revealing through a simple look,
More than words,
Reflections. -
i like the way u structure it.... very very good leh! can i copy u?
-
Sure...
-
i din like the teacher part tho.....
the institution,
gave me an education,
a paper degree,
but never any wisdom......