Silence Is the Curse of A Tomorrow Never Was
The frozen cold crescendo
engulfing four-count prayers,
smothering the twinkle of a fairy's glissando.
The teardrops of the strings
trembling across black and white keys.
Echos of broken songs.
Blood of the purest night,
untainted, tinted
by unfaithful locks
and five-digit melodies.
Dance, dance; swing, swing.
Kiss of flowers drizzling
upon a ballet of water rising.
Waves that rage and multiply --
wingless dreams can touch the sky.
Queen of roses embracing a flood of fire,
death is the disclaimer of the moonlit lyre.
See not the dancers; hear not the silence.
The frozen cold crescendo
engulfing four-count prayers,
smothering the twinkle of a fairy's glissando.
The teardrops of the strings
trembling across black and white keys.
Echos of broken songs.
Blood of the purest night,
untainted, tinted
by unfaithful locks
and five-digit melodies.
Dance, dance; swing, swing.
Kiss of flowers drizzling
upon a ballet of water rising.
Waves that rage and multiply --
wingless dreams can touch the sky.
Queen of roses embracing a flood of fire,
death is the disclaimer of the moonlit lyre.
See not the dancers; hear not the silence.
------------------------
I strike again. Get your critique canes ready~!
This one was done at school a while back, the theme is music. rofl
As you can tell... my style is not very organized. I like my poems to swing than rock -- if you get the imagery. x]
Rhyming is addicting.