Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I was happier then
when the sun rose every day.
Before the constant fog of now.
We were happier then.

Our language of love
seems buried in the mists, fog won't lift.
I never used to notice the seasons turning.
It was always sunlight on the vein of a leaf.
I'd soak it all up and sprint out for more.
You offered grape juice when I returned.

I wobbled on my first bike
but soon I was riding a Sting Ray.
I rode all up and down that block.
It was summertime the whole time.

I must have pedaled too far.
All I have left is your touch,
in this quiet storm of winter,
and your love.

Mnaz, this exemplifies you poetic prowess. I know where you are coming from and lost love wistfulness is a feeling I feel all too often.

John

why do memories have to last?

John, Walt-- thanks for reading.

About the best thing I can say about this one is that just for a moment I was five years old again. It was a hard write otherwise, but something I had to say.

good poetry has to reach out and touch the reader honestly and risk sounding foolish. this was a good poem.

hermoso poema, mnazz..!

I never used to notice the seasons turning.
It was always sunlight on the vein of a leaf.
I'd soak it all up and sprint out for more.
You offered grape juice when I returned.

mnaz...i like the feeling these lines evoke...carefree. happy. kinda like icecream dripping on your naked skin and you just don't care summer moment.

All I have left is your touch,
in this quiet storm of winter,
and your love.

Even her touch is gone now these many years
but her love still lingers.

beautiful poem
I wish I had your memories.




"From a child of five to myself is but a step. But from a new-born baby to the child of five is an appalling distance." Leo Tolstoi.

beautiful courage and honesty......I know what you mean about, just feeling the need to write something like this, but not just write it, to share it as well........well done