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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Parkwaydots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Solomon Disease
    ASL Info:    101, male, earth
    Elite Ratio:    3.58 - 284/292/104
    Words: 308
    Class/Type: Misc/Misc
    Total Views: 806
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2214



    Description:
       


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

    dotsParkwaydots
    -------------------------------------------


    It is difficult to begin again.
    So easy to get comfortable,
    In nothingness.

    Been here before.

    In a different place.
    Leaving my brothers.
    Leaving my music.
    Thinking of going back.
    Dreaming of holding,
    My old guitar . . .
    Sunburst,
    Worn but beautiful,
    Smelled like those early childhood mornings:
    Mom cooking breakfast,
    Sister playing the harmonium,
    Dad lecturing me on how sleeping late will ruin my life,
    The ceiling fan turning.

    I left my guitar in the sea of the sun,
    It's in good hands.
    I'll play it again.
    Don't really play much now.

    I remember when I couldn't go a day,
    Without playing music.
    And when I started playing hours would go by,
    Lost in movies created by the music.

    When I moved here,
    Didn't know what was going to happen next.
    Decided to wait.
    Wait for a sign.
    Months went by.
    Many cigarettes.
    Thinking about all the failures.
    Then it came.
    Took a step.
    It brought me here.

    Many years passed.
    In the same place again.
    Though I don't feel lost.
    The failures seem like successes,
    And the successes seem unnecessary.
    I had to prove myself though,
    To myself,
    No,
    To them.

    I do feel the need to do something now.
    Want to play guitar,
    But it becomes too intense.
    Emotions come flooding,
    Hard to control.
    Control is important now.

    The days go by so fast.
    Feel so tired.
    Don't know why.

    Need sleep.
    Still haven't caught up,
    On all the sleepless nights last year.
    There are reasons.
    Hard work they say is the key.

    Time to rest,
    I suppose.

    Just have to wait.
    Wait for a sign.

    Don't have any wants now.
    Just acceptance.
    This is my destiny,
    I can control it they say.
    But first,
    I'll sleep.




    Submitted on 2011-06-28 01:42:29     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

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    ||| Comments |||
      Hm.. I really like this writing. I like how you managed to capture the passing of time in this poem...

    "Months went by.
    Many cigarettes"

    I know that feeling :) I've always felt like I'm at least 100 years old. :D
    | Posted on 2011-07-03 00:00:00 | by Paradox | [ Reply to This ]
      I think you captured something so common. Highly relatable, but I adore some of the details of this.

    Hard to control.
    Control is important now.


    Mom cooking breakfast,
    Sister playing the harmonium,
    Dad lecturing me on how sleeping late will ruin my life,
    The ceiling fan turning
    | Posted on 2011-06-28 00:00:00 | by lori_tab | [ Reply to This ]


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