listen to the distant echoes of your nostalgia; all that remain of your dreams are compressed into orbs of light, carefully placed inside an empty box; leave your house and search the idle sands of time for me, x marks the spot.
i was thinking of writing a poem from a name. this one was one of my favorites. //leonardo calix//
Words been sitting on my tongue for so long Nothing can escape They don't know how to solve the labryrinth Eyes contact In Every crowded room Only see the brown orbs Looking at the sun But can't see the moon
Inside a room dark with little moonlight Peering over pages clear as white With hair long seeming unkept to the sight Scribbling words that common couldn't get right Heart & mind together a tender thing in delight Lost in ecstasy of his beloved's image upright..
"Dazzling with golden curls serpentine bright The beauty that perceived through the orbs bright And the pleasure of the beloved in clear sight Beauty unexplained by tongues tight And that none could put on paper nor write Sages mentioning of it only in esoteric delight!"
Finally the pen scribes on the paper white That the beauty of the beloved is itself a shield tight Then the figure turns the head, just slight And catches itself in silver of seeping moonlight who is this being now that we can have the sight Lo; it is none but the mysterious poet.
(By: Khan, BA on Nov 1st, 2017)
The discription of the poet who beholds his beloved and trying to describe the beauty instead comes to know that it is such that no descrption will do justice to the beauty of the beloved.
With gleeful smiles he did love his work, thoughts of others fashioned into orbs. Those of most precious moments never to be forgotten enshrined in this master craft of incantation his palms drifted over Those who wished it copied for keep sakes worth.
He spoke unto the winds as he formed a bubble shimmering blank needing's of thought. Slight images wisped from mind to orb, pictures formed of what was a reflection duplicated in this spherical wonder that floated above, he blew gently its form.
He had many of his own, but thoughts do wonder "No his wondered, out of windows, doors, soot fused spheres that cleaned his chimney top. Losing his thoughts were a clear expression with him but still the originals were safely stored inside.
His smile was infectious his heart white as his beard with warmth. He never asked of anything for his thoughts were of those in times to come to see who they were in a memory. Never lost to generations, wise words or comical moments all would last bonded in word.
Do you know they have a random wizard name generator, CLASS :)
your blue eyes are an ocean i will drown in. not because i want to, but because i have to. i have to have that bed rest beneath me when i lay on the sand and i stare at the sky, sprinkled with stars, and when i look to my left, i have to find two oceanic blue orbs staring back at me.