I wrote this . . .

[Ultra_Groovy]

. . . I don't know what it means.

Bittersweet,
joy like a chorus
of Angels singing
enmeshed with sadness, deep,
and murky blue.

Crimson stained like my
Lotus and yet not
my Lotus.
Usurped by another
whome I wonder about
incessantly,
comparing myself and
fluctuating between the wish
that he fail and the wish
that he succeed;
for if he succeeded
I could remain
solitary
and have an exscuse
for my existence.

 

[harraser]

i think this is wonderful. i loved the second half especially.. from Usurped onward.. excelent

 

[neverwas]

I could remain
solitary
and have an exscuse
for my existence.

perfect was to finish this peice.

 

[CHiLD-0F-THE-BEAT]

Originally posted by Ultra_Groovy
Crimson stained like my
Lotus and yet not
my Lotus.
Usurped by another

^Wow. Sounds like you suprised yourself, here?

I love this. Beautiful and fragrant, it speaks of confusion and wonderment at our own intricate thoughts.
Well done.

 

[up all night]

I think the best poems are where you just empty your mind and let the words flow. That's when the deeper meaning is found because you're not trying to say anything... you just are.

 

[KaideAlike44]

^I agree, this one was really well written.

 

[Ultra_Groovy]

<blush>

Thank you, all.

 

[cherub]

Definately great work here.

it reads very much introverty and that i can relate to.