Once again a child in new Surroundings

6 Comments

  • Desmotti
  • The wraith is but sadness in mortal form. It haunts to hunt, and hunts to feed. It cannot feed on any emotion. This is its pain. for emotion is not segregated it is fealt, and to feel is warmth.

Once again a child in new Surroundings

I wake with sleepy eyes...so hard to determine my whereabouts...

Am I dreaming Desmotti...I converse with myself for sake of

sanity...for I am in a place I understand not.

I wipe mine eyes...so weary...humming the melody of better times

softly without knowing.  I am a child here in the barren, and I feel

abandonment's anxiety clawing at the walls of comfort my memories

forged me in the fires of better times.....oh the better times.

As I kneel lifting my head to scan that which surrounds this pitiful worm,
I realize the true discomfort of my situation.  It is the darkness.  It is

everywhere..and deep are the shades which emit from everywhere I try

to glimpse. 

I try earnestly with fear creeping to adjust mine eyes to the night that is
my canopy...I search the heavens for stars that might comfort me with

familiar but I recognize none for they hold no pattern from the world I

was thrust from....All is Unknown.

What to do?...Where does one start?  I am a child with no knowledge of
what to do?  What to do....For now I will stand and perhaps walk a

bit...it mattereth not the direction for there is no star to guide me...only
the darkness for companionship...lonely am I...Once again a child in

new surroundings.

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bforibus commented on Once again a child in new Surroundings

09-29-2009

i love the beauty of story telling. this was true sad in its nature, but the imagery made this poem beautiful. great job

Mandi commented on Once again a child in new Surroundings

09-23-2009

you write like a college professor what is your background? Don't hold out on us... What adventures have you had in your life , master? Tell us, please, tell us..

Desmotti

09/27/2009

The world encapsulates billions of personal worlds....some migrate to others personal worlds making it also theirs...combined through synergy and careful faith...and perhaps they join into one...world. Then you have the worlds of dreamers, where the purpose lies in the dreamer...creation is Godly though we are mortal manifest, it is our right...put down your desires on paper in color for we are not dogs who dream in shades of Black and white....Answer your questions through others perspectives...let their light guide you and sift the darkness light molded wheat and let it fall where it may...yet take light from inside you with you into places you can't see, perhaps the darkness...you will then see what you hoped to see all along...Truth

rougepriest commented on Once again a child in new Surroundings

09-22-2009

very nice prose ya have here indeed. sounds very classic i like it

DeepEclipse commented on Once again a child in new Surroundings

09-12-2009

The self knows me better than anyone. The rites of passage must be despair...pain....torment........for the minds created afterwards are beyond normal talent. Making logic look like a fool. But ah......the burden. There is always a catch. You are talented in not only rhyme, but free verse as well. Savor the gifts. Wherever a warrior finds them, he indeed has earned them. I enjoyed this metaphorical journey.

swiftbird2C commented on Once again a child in new Surroundings

09-11-2009

A well written concept of showing the lost soul in turmoil. If I may take a moment to do what my first college Creative Writing Professor did for me; First alude 2 archaiac language -ie, know not nstead of knoweth not. Second)spend more language showing the reader with images instaed of explaining the concept. It strikes much deeper into the unconsious mind this way.

Desmotti

09/11/2009

I am pleased at the views of so swift a bird as thee...for thee hath made thy claim on the journey of one such lost soul...I take only a moment to embrace your insight...and still obligate myself to your curiousness if it exist....by giving you clue into what it is that is happening.....it is merely...a paragraph out of a book that is written every now and then...yet unfinished...though still a goal with ending....Thankfully I conclude....with...thank you sir.

Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

Desmotti’s Poems (25)