Good poets only compose,
To read their creative work,
When they are on their deathbed, alone
When there is none to moan,
No sounds of music
No sensations,
Dead feelings
And
The distant drums beating are heard,
Just to keep one alive,
Then upon the soil of ego
Man does survive
Just to die
He has a feeling
Of still being alive
Comments
Dear Loved,
I see you have delved deeply with this piece. Your title got my attention and the structure and content held.
No sounds of music
No sensations,
Dead feelings
When I am on my death I want to hear music. If it comes soon it will be the musical creations of Dylan and Tom Petty. If later we shall see.
I really like these lines:
The distant drums beating are heard,
Just to keep one alive,
Then upon the soil of ego
Man does survive
Just to die
He has a feeling
Of still being alive
always, Cat
THIS was an exceptional piece
THIS was an exceptional piece.
LONGO
the strength u show is also EXCEPTIONAL FRIEND
the distant drums beating are heard,
Just to keep one alive,
Then upon the soil of ego
Man does survive
Just to die
He has a feeling
Of still being alive
thanks cat ur wonderful
the distant drums beating are heard,
Just to keep one alive,
Then upon the soil of ego
Man does survive
Just to die
He has a feeling
Of still being alive
can it be?
is this our grim fate? haha. great words; it takes you to a wistful graveyard scene full of long-gone masters of the trade. very nice.
always,
mag
hello teenager did u read my teenager one
the distant drums beating are heard,
Just to keep one alive,
Then upon the soil of ego
Man does survive
Just to die
He has a feeling
Of still being alive
alas, i did, and i did like
alas, i did, and i did like it! but now you need to give up some info so i may return the favor. :D
Thanks a lot
ANONYMOUS POET 7500POEMS COMPOSED ACROSS THE INTERNET HOPE IT HELPS
Loved
An Excellent piece on taking our words to nowhere lol.
Though I must say once they are thought they are eternal, but write them down just in case, Sadie says you will love the Library that is there......
Yours Ian.T
CONVEY MY REGARDS TO
Saddie
and
thanks for smaller mercies
Upon the will of kind folks
I do survive
As a bee does around the beehive
Most flicker around a candle flame
And burn them to earn a name.
So be it with me,
I burn the midnight oil with glee
And
Hopefully my works shall
Some day immortal be
So dear friends bow to thee