If I played piano
Would you climb upon the frame?
In this musky otherworld
Could you bring to us a beam?
In this musky otherworld
Could you bring to us a beam?
Of hope?
Of faded sunshine
Kept inside your pocket for a darker day?
Do not be afraid to toss your hair
Do not be afraid to toss your hair
Your dress
Your indiscretions about the glowing air.
Open your soul
And give shelter to prying minds,
A place to rest our weary hearts.
At what point do you cease to play this game,
Look upon the lost faces,
The vague eyes,
Admit defeat,
And call it a day?
Or does she seek to write her own rules?
And If I should play through the night
And call it a day?
Or does she seek to write her own rules?
And If I should play through the night
And if the first stripes of dawn should fall
Upon your shoulders with your tresses.
Would you still be swaying with the riffs,
Or beside me giggling?
Perchance to be riding the waves of my mind
Over a sweet chardonnay at the bar
Would you still be swaying with the riffs,
Or beside me giggling?
Perchance to be riding the waves of my mind
Over a sweet chardonnay at the bar
And talking of the day yet to come.
2 comments:
My dead grandma can write better crap than this.
...And the award for Most Comprehensive Blog Comment goes to Fatty! (By the way, I would totally read some of her stuff if you can get it on here.)
Bring us to a beam?
Of hope?
Too many question marks. I don't care what your "poetry has no rules" doctrine says. Your next fragment also ends in a question mark. Following "beam" with one creates the idea that you could be taken to a beam. If you're a gymnast, fine, but I know damn well that you aren't. Sometimes I think you hide in poetry because you're no good at remembering how to punctuate, and I know you can't keep continuity straight.
Other than that, it was touching and beautiful.
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