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Literature Text
I watched you sitting there, in front of the window, alone
with the scent of night, as if you were caught in
a moonbeam spider web, alone
with pen and paper
I love to watch you
writing left-handed,
as if your words needed protection
With this absent-minded look
in your ocean blue eyes
which see more than all the others see - maybe
they see things more clearly, or rather
they see them how they really are
I love to watch you
breathing life into dead things
and turning sentences into melodies
How you´re able to give the little things significance
and write down what life keeps quiet about
You can make the stones cry and
bring a smile on the lips of the inconsolables,
apply a plaster on a broken heart with a couple of sentences,
you can drown out the ticking of the clock
and stop the world for a handful of seconds
You paint rainbows across thunderstorm-shadowed faces
and jot down the notes of the songs only hearts can sing,
you can touch my body more intensely with a few letters
than others do with their own hands
You can describe the sound of a bird´s wing while soaring up
you can picture the touch of november mist on skin
you can tell about the smell of strawberry fields in the morning,
and how heart-broken silence at the end of a phone call feels like
You´re revealing infinite horizons
with the lightly elegant hand movement
and the modest secret-keeper-smile
of a magician
You make me fly on
paper planes and
turn my room into a castle,
built from words
Take me to Utopia,
take me to places no man entered before
take me to the parallel universe
take me to worlds I´ve never imagined,
take me to no man´s land,
my Prometheus,
who stole from the gods to achieve
the gift of imagination,
show me how to open my eyes
and just see
what I´ve never seen before
When you write about loneliness, I just wish
I had been there, these nights when you sat there,
in front of the window, alone
with pen and paper, and tortured thoughts
I wish I had been there, to fight desperation,
to fight this unjust world, fight these nights filled with sighing words
to read out all those lines for you when you can´t hear your voice anymore,
continue the line of thoughts you were drawing,
invent the end of the dreams you woke up from,
to kiss these tears off your face before they reach paper
I just wish I had been there, to add the few words which are
sometimes enough to turn a tragedy into a happy ending
and to save all those worlds you burnt, all those dreams left untold
just to show you you´re more than enough, cause
inside of what you write, you´ll live forever
(And when you write about love,
I´d give the world to know
who you think of
while ink meets paper)
I´m so afraid to kiss you because maybe
this would wipe all the words off your lips,
all these words, only destined for being written
So write for me until daybreak,
until I fall asleep, head on paper,
after you wrote a mattress of roses for me,
bedded me on a pillow of dreams, and
sent my mind to the outer worlds you created
So let me sleep, while writing-
and she closed her eyes, a sunrise-smile on her lips, like a fairytale princess
with the scent of night, as if you were caught in
a moonbeam spider web, alone
with pen and paper
I love to watch you
writing left-handed,
as if your words needed protection
With this absent-minded look
in your ocean blue eyes
which see more than all the others see - maybe
they see things more clearly, or rather
they see them how they really are
I love to watch you
breathing life into dead things
and turning sentences into melodies
How you´re able to give the little things significance
and write down what life keeps quiet about
You can make the stones cry and
bring a smile on the lips of the inconsolables,
apply a plaster on a broken heart with a couple of sentences,
you can drown out the ticking of the clock
and stop the world for a handful of seconds
You paint rainbows across thunderstorm-shadowed faces
and jot down the notes of the songs only hearts can sing,
you can touch my body more intensely with a few letters
than others do with their own hands
You can describe the sound of a bird´s wing while soaring up
you can picture the touch of november mist on skin
you can tell about the smell of strawberry fields in the morning,
and how heart-broken silence at the end of a phone call feels like
You´re revealing infinite horizons
with the lightly elegant hand movement
and the modest secret-keeper-smile
of a magician
You make me fly on
paper planes and
turn my room into a castle,
built from words
Take me to Utopia,
take me to places no man entered before
take me to the parallel universe
take me to worlds I´ve never imagined,
take me to no man´s land,
my Prometheus,
who stole from the gods to achieve
the gift of imagination,
show me how to open my eyes
and just see
what I´ve never seen before
When you write about loneliness, I just wish
I had been there, these nights when you sat there,
in front of the window, alone
with pen and paper, and tortured thoughts
I wish I had been there, to fight desperation,
to fight this unjust world, fight these nights filled with sighing words
to read out all those lines for you when you can´t hear your voice anymore,
continue the line of thoughts you were drawing,
invent the end of the dreams you woke up from,
to kiss these tears off your face before they reach paper
I just wish I had been there, to add the few words which are
sometimes enough to turn a tragedy into a happy ending
and to save all those worlds you burnt, all those dreams left untold
just to show you you´re more than enough, cause
inside of what you write, you´ll live forever
(And when you write about love,
I´d give the world to know
who you think of
while ink meets paper)
I´m so afraid to kiss you because maybe
this would wipe all the words off your lips,
all these words, only destined for being written
So write for me until daybreak,
until I fall asleep, head on paper,
after you wrote a mattress of roses for me,
bedded me on a pillow of dreams, and
sent my mind to the outer worlds you created
So let me sleep, while writing-
and she closed her eyes, a sunrise-smile on her lips, like a fairytale princess
Literature
echoes of home stay longer than you can imagine
there is a certain kind of secret
lost inside the essence of beauty
there is a certain path of words
that hang heavy in the air, long after their origin has left
h e a r t b e a t to h e a r t b e a t, breath to breath
I'm wondering who could
save
me
Literature
blossoming
it happened while I was laying in bed. the white sheets surrounded my pale skin, the soft morning light with such a dim on my face with nothing to be said, nothing to be done. my limbs, my arms, my whole body felt so heavy. my breath went slowly and suppressed and my eyes fell closed as soon as the need to open them arose. the bed began to move, it elongated and stretched with me inside. so did I. it was a pain, an ache, a distress. so much had happened before, so many words had been said, so many thoughts had been thought, so many dooms had been done. but I lived. "mum", I whispered as her fragile body entered the door, her eyes silently upo
Literature
the simple truth...
he took one breath
and
behold!
(the world)
stars open
sleep pending
and all
is love
between
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At first, three times sorry:
1) about the title, my title-finding-creativity is kind of blocked - just give things the names they deserve
2) atm I´m in this cheesy-romantic-love-poem-writing-mood...it really helps to put on rose-coloured glasses sometimes
3) my English is terrible, I know
Actually, I was inspired by *BeauCyphre, who reminds me quite much of someone I loved, by the ability to create just incredibly beautiful stories and to find words which I search in vain myself. Thank you for the feature! (But, of course I don´t want to blame him for my poetical desasters.)
1) about the title, my title-finding-creativity is kind of blocked - just give things the names they deserve
2) atm I´m in this cheesy-romantic-love-poem-writing-mood...it really helps to put on rose-coloured glasses sometimes
3) my English is terrible, I know
Actually, I was inspired by *BeauCyphre, who reminds me quite much of someone I loved, by the ability to create just incredibly beautiful stories and to find words which I search in vain myself. Thank you for the feature! (But, of course I don´t want to blame him for my poetical desasters.)
© 2012 - 2024 rose-from-the-ashes
Comments37
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First of all, your poem reminds me that we never forget the ones we love, because real love never vanishes into the past, real love is forever.
Your poem's about a writer, but it's also about writing itself, about magic and some things we've lost. It's about dreamers and belief, and it's about secret skills that come from the heart as much as from the Gods above, and if there are demons in this world they did their part too to allow creations that bloom like flowers in darkness and light. No light without darkness, and one plus one equals two sides of an immortal story that goes on and on and on, and I'm flying high on the words of your beautiful poem right now 'cause I wish for the sun and the moon and the stars under my wings.
I imagine so many things drowning in your words, and all of them are breathtaking, adventurous and uplifting. Imagine is a gift, a real work of art coming straight from your soul, and I'm deeply honored to be part of your inspiration for this gem.
Let's open all doors, let's open all windows now, and when we're finally ready let's burn down all houses! Our souls shall be free.
Your poem's about a writer, but it's also about writing itself, about magic and some things we've lost. It's about dreamers and belief, and it's about secret skills that come from the heart as much as from the Gods above, and if there are demons in this world they did their part too to allow creations that bloom like flowers in darkness and light. No light without darkness, and one plus one equals two sides of an immortal story that goes on and on and on, and I'm flying high on the words of your beautiful poem right now 'cause I wish for the sun and the moon and the stars under my wings.
I imagine so many things drowning in your words, and all of them are breathtaking, adventurous and uplifting. Imagine is a gift, a real work of art coming straight from your soul, and I'm deeply honored to be part of your inspiration for this gem.
Let's open all doors, let's open all windows now, and when we're finally ready let's burn down all houses! Our souls shall be free.