A whispered lie, a silver blade
The deed is done, the man is slayed
And she escapes, not one sound made;
'Tis the way of the assassin
A glint of sunlight caught his eye
A rustle of some leaves nearby
An arrow in the air does fly;
'Tis the way of the huntsman
A frightened ghasp rings through the night
A child awakes, he sweats with fright
He wipes his tears, turns on the light;
'Tis the way of nightmares
A page filled all up to the brim
A story, poem, song or hymn
Are thing a writer takes pride in;
'Tis the joy of life
Next time more negativity :P
ReplyDeleteBut seriously *thumbs up*
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ReplyDeleteI literally can't think of anything bad about this poem!
:D
JMB (i don't feel like typing much ^^), negativity?
ReplyDeleteBut seriously, thanks!!! :D
PYRO! Thanks so much! I wrote this at school, we've started learning Poetry in Literature!
In Hebrew, though. Poetry sounds lame in hebrew.
Why does poetry sound lame in hebrew? Frankly I think it's much greater on some levels than English poetry (although it obviously depends on the poem/poet)
ReplyDelete