Peace in our rhyme
Jul. 17th, 2002 10:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
robinblokeSilence like a golden cushion cradling your mind
The babble of a crystal stream leaves the world behind
The warm glow of the sun as it bathes you in light
The crisp chill of evening air, first thing at night
Clouds hanging like icecream in a sky, pale blue
Your slow, shallow breaths as sleep begins to claim you
Hmmm, this one was constructed rather than a simple flow of words that I just typed straight from my mind and wham a poem, it also feels wrong because I had to swap sentances around, jiggle words and force and twist some of the lines to get it to 'work'.
I think poetry for me is a very emotional thing, a slice of my feeling given words; with no feeling or emotion it's a very artificial process. Perhaps emotion is the spark that drives my creativity, mental peace doesn't really lend itself well (for me) for it...
The babble of a crystal stream leaves the world behind
The warm glow of the sun as it bathes you in light
The crisp chill of evening air, first thing at night
Clouds hanging like icecream in a sky, pale blue
Your slow, shallow breaths as sleep begins to claim you
Hmmm, this one was constructed rather than a simple flow of words that I just typed straight from my mind and wham a poem, it also feels wrong because I had to swap sentances around, jiggle words and force and twist some of the lines to get it to 'work'.
I think poetry for me is a very emotional thing, a slice of my feeling given words; with no feeling or emotion it's a very artificial process. Perhaps emotion is the spark that drives my creativity, mental peace doesn't really lend itself well (for me) for it...
