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Original Forgotten by =Chiru013:iconChiru013:



Black notes staring off the treble staff
  Meaning nothing to the unlearned,
Tells stories of each tear and laugh;
  Leave no music page unturned.

The narrator takes each twisted note
  To morph into their own,
Not knowing what the author wrote
  Nor how the seed was sown.

Each line, each section, and each page
  Resembles story's same;
But this story changes with age,
  And with every gent and dame.

And so the same story's not told twice,
  The moods and feelings soften
Until it forms a new device,
  Original Forgotten.
©2009-2010 =Chiru013
:iconchiru013:

Author's Comments

Just a sappy little poem I wrote for English one day... Not great, but I figure why not get some feedback. A.K.A., I'm addicted to this site and have the inexplainable need to post stuff every so often.

Comments


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:iconx13th-floorx:
This is incredible.
The rythms and words merge perfectly together; almost like the music you described was visually displayed.
An amazing imaginative story was left in my mind after reading this.
Excellent, excellent work.

--

"Humor is almost always anger with its make up on."

- Stephen King (Bag of Bones)
:iconchiru013:
Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it. ^^

--
Give me a lead pipe and tell me who not to hit.

~AlchemillaHospital For Silent Hill Fans
:iconx13th-floorx:
Not a problem at all. :]

--

"Humor is almost always anger with its make up on."

- Stephen King (Bag of Bones)
:iconrelyonyourself:
Dude... you used to yell at me for saying my stuff was no good. So I don't wanna hear it, because everything I've read of yours is impressive.
:iconchiru013:
lol, thanks.

--
Give me a lead pipe and tell me who not to hit.

~AlchemillaHospital For Silent Hill Fans

Details

July 6, 2009
805 bytes

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