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Array ( [sid] => 182646 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Parallel play [time] => 2016-02-21 11:44:08 [hometext] => Clean me up [bodytext] => It takes a writer to see what it has become.
Not a poet with a sense of life.
A drunk would do a better job, they usually do.
Why do you never see anything?
In my world love is a pop song and passion is excruciating.

Write truly and live a lie. That’s the only way.
I feel the strange need to feel fragile. Poems are solid.
Bars of gold, trees, swords. Thought is air.
Only speak when annoyed. Only love when forced.

I too am troubled, therefore a writer.
Never the other way around.
With every book death opens itself up in my lap.
With every poem a butterfly dies.
And the leaves fall down once again.

He has never been solid. Listens, waits for his turn.
Sits beside me. A correction, red line, under every word of our story.
It is easy though. Ball it up and toss it. Start again.
Make a remix of everything forgotten.

Proze. Short stories. Old and cliché.
Some good stuff but only a few.
We are a floor full of paper.
Light it up for once and for all.
Hoarding memories.
Different stories, never intertwined.
Parallel play.

I should clean up this mess.
[comments] => 5 [counter] => 229 [topic] => 43 [informant] => SylviaHughes [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )

Parallel play

Contributed by SylviaHughes on Sunday, 21st February 2016 @ 11:44:08 AM in AEST
Topic: oops

It takes a writer to see what it has become.
Not a poet with a sense of life.
A drunk would do a better job, they usually do.
Why do you never see anything?
In my world love is a pop song and passion is excruciating.

Write truly and live a lie. That’s the only way.
I feel the strange need to feel fragile. Poems are solid.
Bars of gold, trees, swords. Thought is air.
Only speak when annoyed. Only love when forced.

I too am troubled, therefore a writer.
Never the other way around.
With every book death opens itself up in my lap.
With every poem a butterfly dies.
And the leaves fall down once again.

He has never been solid. Listens, waits for his turn.
Sits beside me. A correction, red line, under every word of our story.
It is easy though. Ball it up and toss it. Start again.
Make a remix of everything forgotten.

Proze. Short stories. Old and cliché.
Some good stuff but only a few.
We are a floor full of paper.
Light it up for once and for all.
Hoarding memories.
Different stories, never intertwined.
Parallel play.

I should clean up this mess.

Copyright Â© SylviaHughes ... [ 2016-02-21 11:44:08]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Parallel play (User Rating: 1 )
by JamesStockdale on Sunday, 21st February 2016 @ 06:25:45 PM AEST
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Great poem. The struggles of a writer .
A very familiar read.

James

Re: Parallel play (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Monday, 22nd February 2016 @ 02:21:15 AM AEST
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I enjoyed this a lot. It is a great piece!

Thank you,

Tim

Re: Parallel play (User Rating: 1 )
by ming on Monday, 22nd February 2016 @ 10:51:22 AM AEST
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Keep it up. Your insight is awesome! :)

ming

Re: Parallel play (User Rating: 1 )
by softerware on Monday, 22nd February 2016 @ 11:19:09 PM AEST
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It is a reader/'/s joy to find themselves inside your head, listening to the kaleidoscope of thoughts you tie together with vauge familiarities.
To eavesdrop on your candid revelations, is both a privilege and a trust --for all writers share some part of you--and you do not reveal us as we would not be seen.
For that you earn our loyalty, and for embracing our struggles with such a delicate pen, our fond agreement. A very true, and kind reveal of writers themselves. You have held up a mirror, and we have looked into your heart.
softerware

Re: Parallel play (User Rating: 1 )
by hauntedscorp on Wednesday, 24th February 2016 @ 11:53:40 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Saturated and parched- together at last! You have no doubt, struck a familiar chord with every writer who has had the pleasure of reading this. I enjoyed the euphemisms and clever metaphor. Excellent closing line! Keep it up.

~Scorp

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