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The Glory of a Story
He turns the corner of the book with no name
Upon those pages listing guilt and shame
And through the words the endless tears and woes
He longs just to see where this story goes
He’s drawn to the heroine and to the tales of spendour
If that figure was real he would want to befriend her
Like a butterfly dancing or high flying birds
Such powerful images leaping from words
A magical book full of wisdom and hope
He isn’t sat boozing or sat smoking dope
The boredom of having such time on ones hands
Is one distant memory, has no part in these lands
The star of this book is so strong and so true
He pictures descriptive words in his minds view
He can feel the crescendo soften, and then feel it rise
It’s like she is real and can see through his eyes
She killed the dragon without any need of a prince
He was in chapter 3 and we’ve not seen him since
It was supposed to be him, defending the crown?
Try as he might he cannot put this book down
It’s such an old book and its falling apart
He gets to a point then goes back to the start
For the tales still untitled, and by whom was it written?
The cover is mangie and rather flea bitten
There are no more pages and there’s no ending to see
He can only imagine what happens to ‘she’
It’s those missing pages that cause him such pain
There maybe no ending but he will still read it again.
I suppose we all write our own endings. Unless fate takes a hand and writes our ending for us.
Copywrite SER ©
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The missing pages have been missing for ages……some day they’ll be found and come back down to ground.
Til then the reader keeps reading, cause the poor heart is bleeding,
Because at the end of the day, the reader likes the pain so will read it again.
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Fate is an enemy you don’t want to mess with, ’cause fate is predictable like some one to play chess with……
Because fate thinks ahead and screws with your mind, while pretending to be simple creeps up from behind.
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Very good Misterq
I’m sure you’ll agree…it’s top marks for me…..but the method i chose wasn’t really my best prose.
I’m better at telling you straight..the reason s that i’m never late….some believe you, many will leave you but your left with the few that will say and then do.
Fate is an enemy you don’t want to mess with, ’cause fate is predictable like some one to play chess with……
No its really not predictable, which is kind of the point to the poem. Ending is unwritten etc. Playing chess with fate – very good analogy.
Because fate thinks ahead and screws with your mind, while pretending to be simple creeps up from behind.
This part is accurate. Very impressive.
Thank you for commenting. You should write something, I’d be happy to comment on it, you have a flare for it.
You remember my tree poem?
Yes I enjoyed your Tree Poem.
I wrote a similar one years ago about a neglected Garden Shed.
Similar idea behind it.
Yes I know it doesn’t sound like it would be at all similar lol
You’d have to read it to understand or I make no sense lol
Keep writing x
Dear garden shed…i think of you when it’s time for bed…..those last minute checks ..inspiration before hitting the decks……..
what will i create next…i can see you are vexed ’cause my tools never get bored as they are always used and never long stored.
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