"He who draws noble delights from sentiments of poetry is a true poet, though he has never written a line in all his life." - George Sand, from The Devil's Pool.
"Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from em...
The beating of drums and hitting of nails The swishing of wind on my window sill
The rumbling of thunder The brightness of a lightning flash
I lay asleep in bed it's past 12 and yet in my slumber I'm aware of this act of God
In the comfort of my bed I stay but yet in my head I'm away
My skin cold My clothes drenched My hair out of the ties That bound it falling down getting in my face
My mother screams for me To come back to the dry But it is drowned out The melodious tune That only I seem to hear It gets colder by the minute My skin now as cold as ice But still My heart yearns to stay
A flash of lightning Jolts me awakes cuddling the blanket close to me I see the thing I yearn to play in the thing my heart wants the most But still here I am A prisoner in my home Yet with the dream Still vivid in my mind I return to my slumber A place where I'm free
Jess🌹
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