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    dots Submission Name: "Requiem"dots

    Author: Clayman
    ASL Info:    28 - getting late
    Elite Ratio:    6.34 - 609/327/167
    Words: 126
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 746
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 975

       We all have dreams that just never got to grow up with us, we failed to nurture them. This is a requiem, an ode to the dreams wandering the cemetery.

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.


    I recall the melodic days
    examining your face,
    carving your name
    from freedom.
    Wishing you real.

    Then you stood there,
    small like me,
    with a starry face
    and we marveled at all
    that was possible.
    of growing up together.

    I reminisce
    over the times
    we shared.

    You came to me
    on wings of fantasy
    to have your fruits
    greyed, your nose
    Bloodied by doubt.

    Neither of us
    saw it coming.

    Juggling life
    made me forget
    your face.

    I used to dream
    hurts me.
    But not like you.

    You persist,
    crying to be noticed.
    Too bad.
    I am grown up now.

    I was a creator once.


    Submitted on 2009-11-26 08:14:57     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      I would never think to write a poem to the reliquiae of my childhood dreams . Perhaps this is because the strongest of them was my desire to remain viably amendable . Unfortunately this makes it very easy to forget those innocent mishaps we ponder in our youth . It's pretty difficult to deny we are the creator here . As you so quaintly put it "You came to me on wings of fantasy
    to have your fruits greyed, your nose Bloodied by doubt." Perhaps we would do best to remember the somewhat tabula rasa state these fantasies grew out of of , but I'm agreeing it "You persist , crying to be noticed Too bad. I am grown up now." Perhaps this attitude is in need of amendment as the last line seems to suggest . As topics go I thought you covered it pretty well . I'll be back for more later .

    | Posted on 2010-10-28 00:00:00 | by monad | [ Reply to This ]
      the last line choked me up.

    i was a creator once.

    as if you no longer have the power to be so again. as if you get to a certain age and the ability to dream is gone. while i know thats not what you are saying thats what it feels like to me.

    juggling life made me forget your face...

    to me this is like an ode to a dead lover. i have written many a piece with such an undertone about a boy i loved who ended his life and the way life itself slowly corroded everything i had left to remember him by... i couldnt remember his voice... i couldnt remember his scent... i couldnt remember much of anything and it hurt... some nights it seemed worse than a stint in hell.

    im sorry it didnt work out.
    im sorry your dreams didnt turn out the way youd hoped they would..
    harry chapin sings a song along such lines... i adore him though you prolly know nothing about him lol.

    im gonna sign out before this becomes a ramble.
    i like your requiem.
    | Posted on 2009-12-03 00:00:00 | by Someones Epiphany | [ Reply to This ]
      This seems to sway toward an old acquaintance, but I think it's more muse-oriented... a look at the lighthearted childish whimsy of the past and go, You don't fit me anymore.

    How depressing it is, to have that switch/change/evolution come about, when our pain grows up and the light-heartedness comes like Peter Pan, wanting to play, but the soul is to heavy to fly off with it... that is what this reminds me of.

    "...how you used to write..." is like being asked to stare at a dead child. Yes, that was then... but things change when chunks of you go missing.

    Beautifully done, Theo is right... insanely pretty with a left-hook punch.

    PS: Ahhh, I really need to start reading descriptions first... it really is perfectly done.
    | Posted on 2009-12-03 00:00:00 | by Runes | [ Reply to This ]
      small like me,
    with a starry face
    and we marveled at all
    that was possible

    "i was a creator once," i dont understand this end, what does it mean? hah. but if its a secret then of course dont tell.

    but this is so insanely pretty. the whole idea of it. i dont think ive grown up yet, i dont think i ever will. ill always be naive and trust all those silly promises and yearn after ridiculous dreams.
    | Posted on 2009-11-27 00:00:00 | by Theophilus | [ Reply to This ]

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