Amidst the deafening silence looms a voice,
Heard not once, until - boom - a voice.
From where does it escape? I remain unsure
for it is not clear. I cannot assume the voice.
I begin to search, search for something more
yet I am still here, and only me it consumes (the voice).
Why am I the prey of this carnivorous beast?
My skin cannot camouflage! It is a lampoon, the voice.
I search and rummage and hear ticking tocks
and pay a visit to my wishes, they vacuum the voice.
I remember watching a steady steam rise,
And her dark hair would frizz and bloom... her voice.
At the end of an isle stand a man and a woman,
Their fingers intertwined, glued by the groom's voice ---
I feel a tingle on my face form Reality's swift slap;
"Natalie, I've been calling you." I swoon. His voice.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 3:59 PM UTC
Amidst the deafening silence looms a voice,
Heard not once, until - boom - a voice.
From where does it escape? I remain unsure
for it is not clear. I cannot assume the voice.
I begin to search, search for something more
yet I am still here, and only me it consumes (the voice).
Why am I the prey of this carnivorous beast?
My skin cannot camouflage! It is a lampoon, the voice.
I search and rummage and hear ticking tocks
and pay a visit to my wishes, they vacuum the voice.
I remember watching a steady steam rise,
And her dark hair would frizz and bloom... her voice.
At the end of an isle stand a man and a woman,
Their fingers intertwined, glued by the groom's voice ---
I feel a tingle on my face form Reality's swift slap;
"Natalie, I've been calling you." I swoon. His voice.
this is called a ghazal. it's a fairly limited form of poetry where there is a refrain and the word before the refrain in each couplet should rhyme. at some point you incorporate some kind of thing that gives your identity.
the award for worst definition of a ghazal ever goes to me, thank you thank you hold your applause
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