Bonjour!
I'm Marcel, I'm new here. So you're write? that's really cool! I'm a writer, I'm writing two novels and a short Story.
So how are you?
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Lol, I doubt you'll be dazzled but here's a few (copy & paste mangled the formatting):
An Artist's Soul
It embodies emotion not logic
When touched by truth turns toxic
Not made of pixie dust or magic
It's story is often quite tragic.
It can capture brilliance in a glance
Neither by luck or by chance
When pressed it breathes life
That can accompany pain and strife.
Many have tried to stifle it's light
Others have made it dull and trite
But it's beauty will forever live on
In the core of every artists' dawn.
The Sun Sets On Daffodils
A candle is lit
On a table set for two
Yet alone he sits
Unable to move
Soon it would end
So long they were together
He tried so hard to mend
What should have been forever
But the sun sets on daffodils
Too late and too soon
No manner of will
Can fend off the moon
Stargazer
When I need to escape and find some reprieve
I lay my body on the belly of the earth and breath
Filling my lungs to the point of strain
Instantly erasing all worries, fears, or pain
As I shift my focus toward up high
My mind becomes encapsulated by the ebon sky
The world seems old and primitive then
the heavens divine and new
And suddenly all that is comes spiraling into view
Was I once a passionate, fiery star?
Or some tepid nebula from afar?
Will I be peaceful like the moon once death takes my soul?
Or will I cave in and become devastating as a black hole?
And just as the mysteries of the void unravel before me
A shooting star whisks me away never to see
The Solipsist
I closed my mind and the world trembled
Proof of my divinity
And to my surprise it all resembled
Exactly how it used to be.
I tried to reshape it all
Erase all the pain
But my imperfections held me in thrall
And so I continue in vain.
What You Leave Behind
As a glimmering teardrop of white hit
the sand, I awoke and there he stood
Tall and proud against an ominous sky
that stretched far across a boneyard
of forgotten dreams
From a time when anything but yourself
was possible, he was a grim reminder of
a promise and enormous potential
And as I looked deep into his fading
eyes, to my horror, I realized he didn't
recognize me
He didn't even know my name.
Under The Willow Tree
I sat there barefoot and naked
Under the willow tree
Where fireflies played along the roving vines
And the scent of myrrh caressed the air
Wishing that I could just be
Just be
Once, I stood nowhere clad in textured lies
Under the veil of man
Enticed by the trappings of guile
And swallowed by the laments of the needy
In front of a mirror's truth
I could not see
But there
Under the willow tree
Where moonlight danced amongst the languid leaves
And dew drops kissed the earth
I was able to be
Just be
I haven't finished a new poem in a few years, though. Lots of scraps sitting around waiting to be pieced together. But yeah, I've been out for like 10 years.
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