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James Andrews Poem
The feelings of a poet grow exponentially with her writing.
As the poet delves deep into herself stirring the coals of her soul-fire,
memories with feeling rise into the atmosphere.
She can grasp at those feelings/memories as they float off into the cold night sky,
but she can never hold them again once they are on paper.
The Poet obsessively stands to close to her soul-fire in life as well as in prose.
Great pain and misery comes from this but,
she does know the fire like none but the artist can.
Copyright © James Andrews | Year Posted 2005
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James Andrews Poem
My heart begins to twist and spasm,
The little things that I used to adore,
The closer that we sit, the farther the chasm,
Its time is over; I am beginning to bore.
Copyright © James Andrews | Year Posted 2005
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Details |
James Andrews Poem
The princess sits in her ivory tower letting her hair grow as time passes by,
Seeing the knights jousting in the distance and wondering if her love is in the arena,
Hearing the cheers of the crowd as one knight topples from his steed. Was that him?
A waft of the sweet mix of sweat and perfume from the crowd and contestants comes into
her window,
Her tresses and petticoats are lifted by the breeze; she can almost feel their
excitement,
As the princess sits in her ivory tower letting her hair grow as time passes her by.
Copyright © James Andrews | Year Posted 2005
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