I wonder what a fish thinks. If it even does think. Well of course it thinks, but how far does the horizon of thoughts go? Merely if it should turn left or right is a significant decision even though it is made many times a day, or maybe they realize they are being screened by foreign eyes. Privacy is such a misunderstood concept. The only place one can truly get it is his own mind, but even then thoughts can be intruded upon, so they are pushed back in the bog of our mind. Thoughts are like dry wood. They are simply waiting to be sparked by that special idea. Dry wood and a spark make a fire. The fire is our imagination, and with each growing flame more ideas sprout up. It is so complex. Then new wood is supplied to the everlasting flame. This is when the charade of silhouettes and shadows come out at dawn to dance. They sing on a pitch so high that the mountains tumble to the surface, and the rivers gush with chaotic peace. The trees will speak the tales of those that wondered through their forests many moons ago. Then the passersby will be in utter joy of these sights and his thoughts will be astounding. While speaking of thoughts here’s one, I wonder what kind of magical thoughts have ever been thought by a fish.
I really like this, perhaps a bit choppy but still extremely good.
I've been working on this for some time.
Eerie silence, breathless breezes and dead stares.
The room was once a place turned into memory until it faded into legend.
The room, however was not legend, it stood in the depths of the world hidden by years of wreckage and change and yet it survived, hidden where all could find it but none could see it. Deathly quiet, the room contains a story that has long been forgotten, a table and two chairs; dominate the room with weakened grace. Two silhouettes are frozen in place, cheated into the game of eternity, played by the devil.
Laughing he watches and grins knowing they played their last card.
A game lays before them, the pieces black and white.
Time has not wearied them, they stand immaculate in the gloom
Their story is not one of justice or equality,
its trickery and deception standing in true devilish sin.
One after the other the room lured them with false pretence;
of gold and success; a good man’s undoing.
Unsuspecting they joined the game.
ignoring the devil and his trickery they made the first move.
Time moved on, seasons came and went,
and yet there they sat slowly moving into the past.
The game remains unfinished and the players undying.
For one who begins the game must end it too.
The room holds them captive and yet God has taken their souls.
leaving the bones of their foundation to inhabit.
Evil holds but one prize, they shall never rest.
For part of them must remain, to finish the game that they started.
Age has not tired his hold and time places not a mark on the room.
The room stays, waiting, wanting, calling.
for any who want to play.
its right there, tucked away in a corner of a world that has eyes
but can not see.
The room is human.
That was very interseting, I love the theme of the devil capturing them in game. Maybe if you add a few words here and there to hekp it make more sense. That was awesome work. Thanks for the advice. That was actually my first draft so I plan to polish it up some more.
to fill her mind
with a thousand
in the center
was a house with
to go beyond
in her heart
will bring sorrow
tears her apart
This is a different view of things, and I really like it! What do you think of this?
To see what it’s like
And to know how it feels
To go through the pain
When nothing is sealed,
No one else knows
No one else is aware
They just continue on
No one has to care,
But I have to go
And I have to deal
I get to learn a little
Of how life can feel,
So I gain what I’ve learned
And no one else has
I get the experience
And all that other jazz,
Don’t kiss and tell
Live and let learn
Believe in yourself
And work for what you earn.
I really like how your poetry flows! Very creative.