Love Left Behind

This is my most recent attempt at poetry. It was written last Sunday while listening to my sister's symphony orchestra concert. (Which was really spectacular by the way!Mozart, then a gorgeous piece from Bruckner, who definitely needs to be played more than he is!) I'd been wanting to write another poem for quite some time, and this was finally the perfect opportunity. And so I did. Though writing in public can be somewhat strange and embarrassing,I seem to end up doing it quite a bit. But the final result is up to you. So here it is.

Breathe.
Inhale. Exhale.
The rhythm intertwines with the beating of my heart.
Slipping.
Slowly, softly,
Dry eyes shut and consciousness drifts away on the winds of forgetfulness.
Do not struggle.
Loose your childlike grasp.
All is lost.
Dream nevermore.

I am oblivion and it becomes me.

Breathe.
Exhale. Inhale.
The rose-hinted breeze caresses my cheek.
It stirs the slumbering dream.
Faster. Harder.
My breath catches.
My heart skips a beat.
She is there again.
Her smile dazzles even my unconsciousness.

My eyes open,
But they do not see.
They are dry no longer.
Breathe.

So anyway, that's that. Kind of sad, but I like it anyway. And if you're wondering whether this is based off of personal experience, the answer is....I'll let you decide.
Regardless of your choice, you can at least tell that I'm a hopeless romantic (in both senses of the phrase), so this poem turned out to be one of my favorites that I've written so far. I hope you enjoyed it, too!

WW

Copy it right 2009 White Water. (Or else!)

Eyes

Eyes…
Cold, harsh eyes
Furtively glancing
Each instant piercing, tearing
Hateful eyes.
Glaring looks
Leaking black light
Painful light
Searing my eyes
I cannot see!
The world is sinking, swirling…
Pain…
Confusion…
Where am I?
Who am I?
What am I?
…Am I?
I am empty
Void
A shadow, spinning in darkness
There is nothing.
Light flickers again…
But this is white
It does not move
It is solid
Warmth
Surging past my eyes
Filling the soul
Comforting
Eyes…
Soft, compassionate eyes
Reaching out
Longing for me…
Smiling.


This was the first real poem I ever wrote. It was back when I finally realized that I had been given a passion to write, and that I might as well get around to doing something with it, that this poem came into existence. I remember the joy and pride overwhelming me upon its completion. I wanted to show it to everyone, yet at the same time it was such a meager offering in reality that I was rather afraid of what the reaction would be. And so there I was, anticipating the end of my inspiration right at the beginning, yet unable to keep it to myself. Thankfully it was met with no negativity, albeit not a whole lot of support either. Nevertheless, it was something to start with. And from there my journey has taken me along many twists and turns, through mountains and valleys, fear and freedom. But that's another tale to be told...

-WW


Copy write 2009 White Water. Etc.