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joan-karcherPoems
I'm trying to live life to the fullest and the meaning is on the crest As I look at the sun this fleeting feeling sweeps over me the horizon will always be on the run such an unnameable emotion just out of reach, blowing in the wind I'm becoming blind, to what is really happening I'm trying to harmonize but instead I'm anathematised it doesn't matter what time of day or how I try to contemplate I'm pushing you further and further away I don't obligate   you to stay     you don't want to be analyzed or rationalized you're already leaving me behind I'm just beginning to understand self, mind, can you discern? you radiate such command, your meaning causes this yearning I'm tantalized and hypnotized   then you start to depart before I can truly see, hear this plea   to grant my desire to comprehend, you're slowly slipping out of my grasp, before I can write this fleeting, fleeting thought down you've already flown,                                          flown far,                                                               far away............                                                                                         ...............
0
Jul 25, 2012
Jul 25, 2012 at 11:00 PM UTC
Ephemeral Sensation
I'm trying to live life to the fullest and the meaning is on the crest As I look at the sun this fleeting feeling sweeps over me the horizon will always be on the run such an unnameable emotion just out of reach, blowing in the wind I'm becoming blind, to what is really happening I'm trying to harmonize but instead I'm anathematised it doesn't matter what time of day or how I try to contemplate I'm pushing you further and further away I don't obligate   you to stay     you don't want to be analyzed or rationalized you're already leaving me behind I'm just beginning to understand self, mind, can you discern? you radiate such command, your meaning causes this yearning I'm tantalized and hypnotized   then you start to depart before I can truly see, hear this plea   to grant my desire to comprehend, you're slowly slipping out of my grasp, before I can write this fleeting, fleeting thought down you've already flown,                                          flown far,                                                               far away............                                                                                         ...............
To have this odd feeling, that you can't place, you want to describe it, It's just begging to be made into a poem, but as you are writing it becomes more and more vague
joan-karcher
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joan-karcher
Jul 25, 2012
Jul 25, 2012 at 11:00 PM UTC
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