Rea Posted April 28, 2011 Share Posted April 28, 2011 Heart's on the shelf... Too full of emotion, to full of self You write with your ego, heart's on the shelf Your thinking, sad thoughts, leave us in doubt. It's your mind, not poetry, decorating the cloud Violins beseech, I hear them tonight They play in my sleep, harmonies creep Do you think of your soul? Do you think of today? I wish to read love songs, not memoried clay So whisk up your thoughts They're starving in hell Lonesome times coming, death's not a shell To err is a true man Forgive, a sad rhyme Your heart is beating, the hell out of time © Rea 8th January 2011 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
rosschandler Posted April 29, 2011 Share Posted April 29, 2011 Heart's on the shelf... Too full of emotion, to full of self You write with your ego, heart's on the shelf Your thinking, sad thoughts, leave us in doubt. It's your mind, not poetry, decorating the cloud Violins beseech, I hear them tonight They play in my sleep, harmonies creep Do you think of your soul? Do you think of today? I wish to read love songs, not memoried clay So whisk up your thoughts They're starving in hell Lonesome times coming, death's not a shell To err is a true man Forgive, a sad rhyme Your heart is beating, the hell out of time © Rea 8th January 2011 i love the last line. and good rhythm. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tonyv Posted April 29, 2011 Share Posted April 29, 2011 How true, Rea. It's most important for a writer to have his heart in whatever it is he writes. Stephen King (in his book "On Writing") expresses the concept well when says to "come to the blank page any way you want but lightly. Do not come to the blank page lightly!" Tony Quote Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aleksandra Posted May 26, 2011 Share Posted May 26, 2011 Hello, Rea. This is an interesting mixture of expressions. Very impressive. Aleksandra Quote The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau History of Macedonia Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
badger11 Posted May 26, 2011 Share Posted May 26, 2011 I agree on that final line, made me smile. badge Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Rea Posted June 21, 2011 Author Share Posted June 21, 2011 Heart's on the shelf... Too full of emotion, to full of self You write with your ego, heart's on the shelf Your thinking, sad thoughts, leave us in doubt. It's your mind, not poetry, decorating the cloud Violins beseech, I hear them tonight They play in my sleep, harmonies creep Do you think of your soul? Do you think of today? I wish to read love songs, not memoried clay So whisk up your thoughts They're starving in hell Lonesome times coming, death's not a shell To err is a true man Forgive, a sad rhyme Your heart is beating, the hell out of time © Rea 8th January 2011 i love the last line. and good rhythm. Hello Ross Thank you for commenting, sorry about the delayed reaction. sincerely Rea Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Benjamin Posted June 24, 2011 Share Posted June 24, 2011 Hello Rea. Most of us have intrusive thoughts... it's a question of deciding which to pay attention to.. and which to let float off on the clouds. Benjamin. :icon_cool: Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gatekeeper Posted June 28, 2011 Share Posted June 28, 2011 You tell on yourself, me thinks. Relax the force! Quote from the black desert Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Rea Posted July 2, 2011 Author Share Posted July 2, 2011 You tell on yourself, me thinks.Relax the force! Hello Gatekeeper, What do you mean by reply? which can be interpreted in many ways, but one way, and one way, is your way of crit, directed to the poet! Rea Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gatekeeper Posted July 3, 2011 Share Posted July 3, 2011 You tell on yourself, me thinks.Relax the force! Hello Gatekeeper, What do you mean by reply? which can be interpreted in many ways, but one way, and one way, is your way of crit, directed to the poet! Rea My sense of your poem is that the narrator is telling on herself, as opposed to some unidentified "you" (that is not a personally directed crit). In other words you are the you in the poem. Am I wrong? Maybe so, but that is how I read it. I also get the sense that some of the wording is forced, for effect. I find that a distraction. Quote from the black desert Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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