ULOG#5: PEN THE MEMORIES 📝 {An Original Poetry} ➕ NOTES & APPRAISAL
Memories are beautiful, they're like memoirs , sometimes they live in the heart forever and sometimes we can't help but turn them into beautiful memoirs, written of us, by us and for us, sometimes, it's always beautiful when you remember a person very close to your heart, and decide to allow your heart flow you will be surprised at what you cab create because sometimes we are at our best when we allow our emotion speak and do our talking, it can be creative, it can be beautiful.
Memories however can make or Mar, however what ever it decides to do it will still be controlled by the emotional either the painful or beautiful one, sometimes memories hurt because you tend to imagine the reason why it came to an end when you're not even done.
In the below poem, titled PEN THE MEMORIES I spoke vividly about a friend, more like a friend I was growing to like/love in the reflection she suddenly disappeared on me, although it felt like the future was bright for us, we wanted it to be, but commitments and nothing in particular made what we had history, she was a writer too, and the way she spiritually connected with me using her poetry made me glued to her, as explained by the poem, howbeit the imageries created, was hurting enough, we don't actually get over memories, sometimes they prevent us from moving forward in life, below is my poem, an AUTO WRITTEN POEM OF SELF TITLED; PEN THE MEMORIES.
Art of her, memories done by me
PEN THE MEMORIES (AN ORIGINAL POEM)
We made it rain driplets of alphabets..
When the sun set it the sky..
We made idle words become king and queens
like chatters, a beautiful entourage of smiles
Colliding with a sweet reason to smile
life were given to sentences and made it fruitful when metaphors became barren.
She's a loving, a letter dotted, so foreign,
We blossomed anew, like fresh wine, sweetening with age.
She's a duchess, an archer with utter precision
like a hunter, she's caught me in her trances,
Of when we sit in the forest boughs, and allow time to die on our faces,
pen the memories
Of a story
Made of me, made of you
Made of us
I'll tell a story of hearts glued by metaphors,
drawn by something unexistent, yet gentle and persistent.
We are like flowers meshed into sensual fragrance,
a pie of lever, a pulley and the weight
like Orpheus and his beautiful songs,
Pen the memories
Of the times When we were younger,
and our hands were filled with hunger,
like an unquenchable thirst for blood at midnight.
It's like a musing, two beautiful hearts intertwined.
never to beat alone, when the sunset turns orange.
Written, edited & analysed
By @Josediccus
9/6/2018
Image taken and drawn by me
Visit my blog for more amazing poems, blog posts and write ups
JOSEPH C.IKECHUKWU
Friend to whom it is written should be proud (and i assume, is).
"I'll tell a story of hearts glued by metaphors" - such a nice, vivid verse. Although in my own writitings i prefer minimalism, i do appreciate rich flavour of this poem.
This is a beautiful poem...i can't but think of whom it speaks about (thinking)😁
@josediccus welldone sir!
Well you are a wise man lol, who do you think it is?😀😀😀