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clem-cPoems
Large figures chasing you with soft noises,                                                        for voices,      long fingers reaching as your short legs,   and little feet run and your laughter begs,                                                          for more. The heart pounds      as you run laughing.           Growling faces chase each other in this place,   of sport where points count and effort on your face, on each combatants face, explain the pain of the pace, all for a ball without mercy or grace, to give up                                                                        a disgrace. The heart pounds     as you run to do battle. You see that person for the first time, or the tenth time,                                               you hope, you will see them over and over for the enth time, your eyes meet and                                                          you                                                          fall harmlessly into the drumming sound, that suddenly got louder in your chest. The heart pounds                   as you.. .. race toward.. .. each other. A small cry, tears to your eyes more to life than meets the eye, more pairs of hands and feet,          your family is complete. The hearts pound    as you two live out creation.                              And dreams. Alone, with walls chalk white and no feeling,      watch sticky flies move and paint peeling, the only visitors are lost in the colour of the walls,                                          you hear voices so familiar, distant echoes down halls. Then they are gone, all is unwelcome and strange again. The heart pounds       irregular growing weaker,                                                   like your resolve.                 Still, the heart pounds, catching on every                                          hope,                                                   you ever had. ©ClemC082013
0
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 12:07 AM UTC
The Heart Pounds
Large figures chasing you with soft noises,                                                        for voices,      long fingers reaching as your short legs,   and little feet run and your laughter begs,                                                          for more. The heart pounds      as you run laughing.           Growling faces chase each other in this place,   of sport where points count and effort on your face, on each combatants face, explain the pain of the pace, all for a ball without mercy or grace, to give up                                                                        a disgrace. The heart pounds     as you run to do battle. You see that person for the first time, or the tenth time,                                               you hope, you will see them over and over for the enth time, your eyes meet and                                                          you                                                          fall harmlessly into the drumming sound, that suddenly got louder in your chest. The heart pounds                   as you.. .. race toward.. .. each other. A small cry, tears to your eyes more to life than meets the eye, more pairs of hands and feet,          your family is complete. The hearts pound    as you two live out creation.                              And dreams. Alone, with walls chalk white and no feeling,      watch sticky flies move and paint peeling, the only visitors are lost in the colour of the walls,                                          you hear voices so familiar, distant echoes down halls. Then they are gone, all is unwelcome and strange again. The heart pounds       irregular growing weaker,                                                   like your resolve.                 Still, the heart pounds, catching on every                                          hope,                                                   you ever had. ©ClemC082013
drumming through a life cycle
clem-c
Written by
clem-c
Norwegian
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 12:07 AM UTC
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