Poetry / My Book of Life
I stand, arms open wide;
Open to you with nothing to hide…
My book pages blow in the breeze,
Waiting your touch to satisfy my needs
With your hand gentle upon my chest,
My heart pounds beneath, not wishing to rest
As you move your fingers over each line, each page,
They begin to curl from the heat of your gaze…
Arms stretched out inviting you to come in,
I seek your fires to be melted within;
While the pages turn with the breeze for which I long,
The letters mingle into a winsome song…
For, too soon, my arms must close for the chill,
That has come to replace warmth I can no longer feel;
And the book of my life, its pages fanned by your breath,
Has fallen into stillness; the cover closed by your death.
I huddle down in the storm that blows,
Encircled by my arms; my mourning clothes…
The book lay near my also closed heart,
And, on top, a pen with ink drying, waiting to start…
Then, slowly, from the clouds comes the sun…
My arms unfold and reach to a new time begun,
And as my heart’s blood warms, the ink flows too,
And the book blows open to a page blank and new.
By Ibecool2 (?)on Migente.com
Quixotic Posted March 16th, 2008 at 06:38pm
Here I stand, with my arms wide open;
mentally and emotionally naked, with nothing to hide
Waiting for you to seduce me, with your silken scarf voice
With your hand gentle upon my chest, lull me and
touch my secret places, with your sublime poetic resonance
My arms stretched out inviting you to come in,
Seeking your fires to be melted within;
All the while my pages turn with the breeze for which I long,
My heart pounding beneath my chest,
As your fingers roam over each of my voluptuous lines,
Revealing each page of my life’s book
melting from the heat of your gaze
Its pages fanned by your breath
Like a pen with ink drying, waiting to start
My book blows open to a page blank and new
A mental sanctuary of refuge
Safe in the soft, dissonant symphony of
A quixotical frolic.
All I can say, it is shameful to take a poem dedicated to my deceased wife and make it an exotic piece of desperate writing.
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ok, i can see why you’re upset. the first poem was really good, it was well written and heartfelt. it was also well versed and the structure is great. i also loved the symbolism you used and the fact that the conflict got resolved and that you moved on. it was a very nice poem, heartwarming and sincere.
now, for the second poem, it is very clear that the person who wrote that did take your poem and tore it apart. although it was not really a flat out erotic version, it came across as a taunt and that was very cruel and insensitive. he not only destroyed your poem, he managed to make a folly of it too. though it may be true that that person did not know the story behind your poem, it is very disrespectful to do what he did. he may be just lacking in creativity and needed so desperately to do something with his idle time but that is no excuse. i don’t really see it as plagiarism because the new “poem” if you could call it that did not have the same essence of the original. it was however a mockery of the first poem and that person should not get away with that.
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The reason for my liking this, is that you managed to make it personal.
I almost felt as if it was about me, or at least someone close to me.
May sound slightly strange, but that’s what I got from reading this.
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