Monday, December 29, 2008

the wind alone can whisper them back to you

the fire burned brightly
as the lighter lit
and relit
flames licking the lined paper

pages and pages of writings
of secrets and honest emotions
(contained in bold block letters for emphasis)

forced to repeatedly blow it out
so that it would not also destroy
the feelings i wanted to keep
those i may still choose to let see the light of day
and the pupils of your eyes

pieces of me were carried away amongst the ashes
but to be frank
at least part of me
took flight weeks ago
beneath a beautiful orange and pink sky
a fitting tribute:
the twilight afire during the continuous battle
of daylight and night

tragically radiant.

2 comments:

Melissa said...

"songwriting inducing";)
Jeanne, quite honestly, I think the thing I love most about [all of] your writing is that I can read and re-read it and find some other new layer that I didn't see before. Maybe I'm just a careless reader, but I like to think that it's because the way you tie in your emotions with the imagery and the themes running through is just so beautiful and understated and subtle that somehow I don't quite catch how profound the words are.
I will buy your book. and be your friend. :)

Jeanne said...

Why thank you :) I just need a publisher, now. And an editor, but I think you could have that job.

I'll be your lyricist, you be my editor.

About Me

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I live amongst the dragons and the warriors of the 21st century. I surround myself with both the peasants, the aristocrats; the knights and the maidens. For a long time (now quite in the past), I wove the structure of my life around the mold others saw for me. I've since learned to live for God and myself. Freedom comes and goes as I remember this lesson of mine. But my life is MY life: a series of events and remembering such. And this, this beautiful montage, is why I wake up every morning. God willing.