| » Poem: Eyes of an artist |
Eyes of an artist
written by Genocide Reaper11:59 PM 4/5/05Gazing outward from within,
seeing a bird land upon a nearby tree limb.
Chirping at the sight of darkness,
the sun is just now peaking out from behind the mountains.
In this valley of hate, it does lay in wait.
Yellow, faint purple, and dark blue in the sky,
All of this I can remember seeing before, as a child.
Though what I see, is a work of an artist,
and it takes one to notice.
This eye of mine knows no boundaries of time.
For all seen before waste, are built in memory.
Always back to the place inside,
I can return, to take a look at the history,
of the land, of a face, of some one even out of place.
A chilling wind can always be felt, in the morning of spring,
and I can still hear that bell’s ring.
Calling out with a hint of Heavenly hymns.
Almost as if I could hear, some sort of angel sing.
When I die,
The sky shall mourn my death,
it may cry,
but It will forever remember, the artist with the magic eye. |
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This Poem has been viewed 392 times
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| » Comments / Feedback | by cryptic_misery (4-6-2005 - 12:03 AM)
| absolutely wonderful dear, I can see it all so vividly, it's beautiful, very beautiful. and you said you wanted to see more poems well I have added some recently =) |
by XpaperdollX (4-6-2005 - 12:10 AM)
| Extraordinary as always. I will say this as I do all the time your amazing. You take my breath away with your poetry. |
by Ruined_Hopes (4-6-2005 - 12:12 AM)
| It sounds so great, wish i could see it too. ohh well, one day gone another to live. i suppose. |
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