CHANGES
These hands can’t be mine
twisted and weakened by time.
These fingers can’t belong to me
they don’t glide so easily
across the keys
and I don’t recognize
these eyes
dull and worn
once bluer than
a summer sky
who took away
the magic in my voice
the charm in my smile
the words that could beguile
through my poetry..
Where did I go.
Who am I now
How did I lose myself
in Time....
and who stole my soul....
Comments
I like it
this does really reflect a human thought and worries. We all
not happy with time stealing our beauty but I always believe that it
can never steal the soul that is one reason why I may not agree with your last line
Other than this it all talk to me and I have enjoyed ..
Joe
A well written piece never worry about that soul being stolen it cannot be done, you can hide it from all the Ills that attack you but it is the real you..
A thought then a feeling where the soul is stirred, a tear where the soul is affected by others, you know it is intact, it is receiving the goodness from you each day and is mighty big now, Yours Ian.T
This is one of your self pity poems I like.
It has dignity because it describes exactly what is happening to you.
This is a good poem well
This is a good poem well written, even if you feel your fingers
aren't your own, its an odd feeling one gets when one looks
at one's own fingers and thinks, are they mine? They could
belong to someone else, and one feels separated from the
body for a moment, but not so much perhaps when one is in pain.
Life is indeed a mystery isn't it Longobardolino with the blue eyes.
Anni
Thank you Ruta,Ian and Jess.
Thank you Ruta,Ian and Jess. Yes, Anni, life is indeed a mystery and pain is the affliction my reason will never understand.
Il Longobardolino
How terrifying it is to see
yourself decay
day by day
and lose reason's sanity
How frightened is the soul.
How sick the heart
when we must face
the unknown.
How lonely is this journey
we all must endure alone.
That is so beautifully put,
That is so beautifully put,
superb poem in your comment here,
without the personal element,
for us all to sense with ourselves.,
if we imagine being sick.
I know many of us being sensitive,
as poetry tends to demand, understand this.
Anni.
Hello Joe
Much has already been said by others before me which agree with in totality. Good poems like this are inspired from a lovely sensitive soul...
A soul we all share.
A soul we all share.
Very true Joe..
Very true Joe..
Joe
Have a look at the Biography of Terry Pratchet if there is one, he writes stories by the ton and has the same as you or one of the other mind depleting illnesses. It may help to see what he is up to.
Not sure what he is up to at the moment but I will have a look, I have looked and will PM his resulting illness news,Yours Ian.T
Thank you, Ian.
Thank you, Ian.