Description: I wrote this fairly recently. It does resemble some of my old pieces because my new writes tend to be different somehow. I guess new experiences can be always accounted for the changes on one's poetry, I posit.
I'm quite fond of this alleged little poem it's been a while since I last used so much burning passion to scribble something down .... no idea if it shows through though .... I guess that the right inspiration does always the trick!
Well, I'm interested in getting if this makes any sense, it certainly does to me ..... I'd like to know what you can make out it!
I will check on your writes if you help me up with this one ... suggestions and any type of comments are obviously welcome. I don't mind negatives critiques so if you have a few of them ... be my guess.
Illusionists on the street
sparking magic
and doves are seen,
flying out of a hat
they freely fly,
high in the sky
as Apollo would
in his sacred chariot.
So high would they reach,
so intense is the trip
that their winds get tired
of the fluttering beat,
though they wouldn’t give up
and carry on the journey
until they get what they want
until one thing befalls.
A very dire trial
- a dear dove’s demise -
and moment later
the other, too, is slain,
a wound in their cores
has triggered a new trail
blood in the air
Blood everywhere!
I found this to be a comment on the dark side of mystery. The idea that the "magic" can be stretched and pushed beyond it's limits.
The Apollo's chariot lines gave a great imagery to the piece.
Hm... I like the begining of this poem, you really have good line there but then it turns into a cliché. This poem was inspired by those black and white films where red is the only colour present, usually a rose or blood. Maybe you should rewrite it and add some more colour.
Submission Name: Illusionists Everywhere
