pessimism, sorrow,or a sweet nostalgia?
I don't know why this black colour covers my pieces of electronic paper.
the road was long and full of odds
the streets were dripping with tears
these same,old tears
the ones which lived by me all these years.
I was travelling to the other side of the moon
the road was cold and lonely like a bleeding wound
the trees were without leaves,sweet autumn memories
I called my friends' names but I get no responses
they were lost between the notes of a song we used to sing.
I was travelling to the other side of a cloud
to see how the world looks like when you are happy
I grabbed a pencil and drew a happy smile on a sad face
but this elation lasted only for a while
and everything turned to darkness in a minute's time.
Poetry by Eva
Read 986 times
Editors' choice
Written on 2009-02-03 at 22:40
Tags Sorrow  Sadness  Pessimism 
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
I don't know why this black colour covers my pieces of electronic paper.
Tiptoeing on a dream
I was travelling to the other side of the sunthe road was long and full of odds
the streets were dripping with tears
these same,old tears
the ones which lived by me all these years.
I was travelling to the other side of the moon
the road was cold and lonely like a bleeding wound
the trees were without leaves,sweet autumn memories
I called my friends' names but I get no responses
they were lost between the notes of a song we used to sing.
I was travelling to the other side of a cloud
to see how the world looks like when you are happy
I grabbed a pencil and drew a happy smile on a sad face
but this elation lasted only for a while
and everything turned to darkness in a minute's time.
Poetry by Eva
Read 986 times
Editors' choice
Written on 2009-02-03 at 22:40
Tags Sorrow  Sadness  Pessimism 
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Editorial Team |
Texts |
by Eva Latest textsTo Let GoSoftness Particle The ghosts Summer in the city |
Increase font
Decrease