06-03-2013, 12:40 AM
Everyone’s an artist,
snug inside their sheets.
Awakened by our sleeping minds,
subconscious finds its feet.
Dancing like a plastic bag
caught in a gust of wind,
expanding like a child’s balloon
unfolding from within.
Fragmented dreams
when you were young,
still linger to this day.
Inside the mind
grand paintings hung,
forgotten smiles you’ve saved.
I am a babe when it comes to poetry, so I don't even know if you could properly call this a critique, but personally, I Loved it. I have just begun to write and it seems the most difficult thing for me to achieve is for my writing to have what I think of as good "flow". For me this flowed wonderfully. It made me wistful for the times of adolescence. Those times prior to "the day the music died".
Thank you Wjames...
snug inside their sheets.
Awakened by our sleeping minds,
subconscious finds its feet.
Dancing like a plastic bag
caught in a gust of wind,
expanding like a child’s balloon
unfolding from within.
Fragmented dreams
when you were young,
still linger to this day.
Inside the mind
grand paintings hung,
forgotten smiles you’ve saved.
I am a babe when it comes to poetry, so I don't even know if you could properly call this a critique, but personally, I Loved it. I have just begun to write and it seems the most difficult thing for me to achieve is for my writing to have what I think of as good "flow". For me this flowed wonderfully. It made me wistful for the times of adolescence. Those times prior to "the day the music died".
Thank you Wjames...