In The Fog
1 March, 2006
Author: Xeracy
A boy sits on a hill
Somewhere in the fog.
No one can see him,
But they know he’s there.
He’s playing his heart out
On an old acoustic Guitar.
Eyes begin to peak
Though the blinds.
What is that noise?
Where is it coming from?
Thoughts dash through
The heads of strangers.
Many pick up the phone
To alert the authorities.
Phones slam down as
Thought trails connect.
They migrate out of
Their warm, cozy houses
To better hear the feelings
Drifting in the air.
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Comments on this poem/writing:
| A Poetic Friend (4.226.223.136) -- Saturday, March 4 2006, 10:22 pm One note at a time, he plays his heart, one touch gone by, comes back, touches his heart again, he feel the music fill his heart. The fog, God's silk dress covers all the notes of his heart, the fog is more real than the thoughts of his heart, every note is played from his heart, the music sheltered by the fog, still plays to his heart. Quietly, he lays his heart down and stands up and soaks his soul, in his own heart. Love is freedom, like music, it's played on note at a time, in the fog. Love the poem. |
| Xeracy (205.124.145.254) -- Monday, March 6 2006, 10:37 pm Thank you for that. It really touched me. You could even say that it brought tears to my eyes. :) |
| tamara (206.81.201.40) -- Thursday, March 23 2006, 09:41 pm hey there brat im glad you havent given up on your poems |
| Some One Special (209.143.46.72) -- Monday, January 1 2007, 08:49 am I love it. It brings tears to my eyes and it makes me wnat to play guitar again. At least then I could express myself. |
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