The Beat of the Oversoul
Somewhere, someplace,
someone is playing a guitar.
Sitting alone,
in a room, in an unromantic city.
Somewhere, someplace,
someone truly honest, sublime
birth of a phoenix
renaissance of hope
where the snow piles up
and the sun becomes a clouded pimple.
Somewhere, someplace,
someone is alone
in an unromantic room.
Believing that no one hears,
or cares.
Never caring, never hoping,
someone is playing six strings
to the beat of the oversoul.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
