My Orchestra
It calls me toward the afternoon it takes me as I sleep. My orchestra takes forth the form as skies immortal weep. I listen good I listen hard, for when they hit the ground. I cannot seem to null it out but listen to the sounds. My orchestra sings just for me, secluded to my ears, but my songs always end for me with thunders brutal sneer.Poetry is what is lost in translation.
Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.
vinsin22’s Poems (10)
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| The Fallens Fall | 2 | 04/25/2011 |
| You get what you paid for | 1 | 03/17/2011 |
| Blinded by sight | 0 | 03/17/2011 |
| My Orchestra | 0 | 03/17/2011 |
| Paths | 0 | 03/17/2011 |
| Russian roulette | 1 | 03/17/2011 |
| The First and Only Leap | 0 | 03/17/2011 |
| One path | 0 | 03/17/2011 |
| The Arena | 0 | 03/17/2011 |
| Consciousness | 0 | 03/17/2011 |
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