For the past two month I've been on a sort of haitus from writers forum... not because I've decided to give up writing but the Lord told me that I should hold up on it for the fast so I have been... and for a comeback I wrote a poem to a peice by the great noah-kh otherwise known as Kuan Hong...(link)
it's still need some work but I was sick of just looking at it...
as a disclaimer: while writing the poem I had no recolection of the poem he did... but now that I think of it, it's similar, strange, I must of been subconsceincly influence by it... drat! I hate it when that happens...
The Silent Lovers
These stone
as black as ice
left from some memory.
are the sculls of men,
now hearing,
the silent war
of these two lovers hearts.
They speak no more;
all has been said.
worth saying anything
now that they're dead?
they're ears are seared,
with the pains of the other
That is why the only look,
not speak, to eachother
sometimes they're eyes meet
more meaning than words
passes between.
He brought her flowers once
black foxglove and narcissus
they withered long ago
now but shadows in the dust
she made him wings,
but he broke them
automated things
could not control them
kept from her besides...
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