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Silas Thorne's Journal

He plays...

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He plays the sonnet, held tight to his breast,
earnestly waiting for those who know best.
There shakes the feather, held down on the ground:
'let me free!, let me free!',
yet the thoughts had no sound.

Would that I could, eat a trick of the light,
Then we would be alright,
Then my thoughts would run free.

Updated 01-21-2009 at 08:52 PM by Silas Thorne

Categories
Poetry

Comments

  1. jon1jt's Avatar
    Rhyme is a tricky business, silas. It's just not working in this case. A couple sentences border unintelligible--L1 and L1, S2. I read this poem and don't know what it is about. Something to do with writing poetry...a sonnet??

    Anyway, you're writing and posting and that's good.
  2. Silas Thorne's Avatar
    Thanks for the comment. I adjusted the lines a bit.Maybe not the ones you want changed though. It came out as more of a rhythmic chant than a rhyme when it came to me at first, but I didn't edit it properly.

    Just playing, I guess. If I keep stuff inside all the time, I might keep the good stuff in too.
  3. SleepyWitch's Avatar
    Hey Silas, why not post it in 'write a really weird poem'?
    I like S2, L1
  4. Silas Thorne's Avatar
    Thanks Sleepywitch, will do.