Pandora Burning

Imgormiel

Part of the furniture
Joined
Apr 18, 2004
Messages
4,372
Pandora burning


A knowing wind kissing your hair, your face and the surface of your eyes.
Our place etches the lined of shores of stone and sand.
Led to where more lines on the ground – and memories of old tides cry.

How seeing an old friend in a stale breath.
Reflects a scar that brings only war.
It is a gift where mouths left gaped in awe.

Eyes that see what fingers grasp - A fitted shape inside a marble glass.
Pandora burns empty the papers from inside
Her secrets left in a crypt of whispers.

The grains of sand sifting through everyone’s hands, echo the silence left behind.

A silent wail she screams inside, choking on the ashes of her own mistakes.
The coughing voice screams only death.

Begging for its second chance, she meets her end.
The hand that fed returns no remorse.
For a sorry heat does not forgive a burning iron stain cut in a heart.
And the blind drink on the flowing river trace of blood that it leaves.

A bitter taste of brine renewed, for the love of the sand and the sea.
The breeze brings only comfort here as the sun shines in your blackened shades.

Broken twigs and leaves warm the floor of autumn’s new colours.
 

Imgormiel

Part of the furniture
Joined
Apr 18, 2004
Messages
4,372
Pandora burning


A knowing wind kissing your hair, your face and the surface of your eyes.
Our place etches the lines of rippled shores, jetsam and stone.
Led to where more lines on the ground – and memories of old tides cry.

How seeing an old friend in a stale breath.
Reflects a scar that brings only war.
It is a gift where mouths left gaped in awe.

Eyes that see what fingers grasp - A fitted shape inside a marble glass.
Pandora burns empty the papers from inside
Her secrets left in a crypt of whispers.

The grains of sand sifting through everyone’s hands, echo the silence left behind.

A silent wail she screams inside, choking on the ashes of her own mistakes.
The coughing voice screams only death.

Begging for its second chance, she meets her end.
The hand that fed returns no remorse.
For a sorry heat does not forgive a burning iron stain cut in a heart.
And the blind drink on the flowing river trace of blood that it leaves.

A bitter taste of brine renewed, for the love of the sand and the sea.
The breeze brings only comfort here as the sun shines in your blackened shades.

Broken twigs and leaves warm the floor of autumn’s new colours.

A knowing wind kissing your hair, your face and the surface of your eyes.
Our place etches the lines of rippled shores, jetsam and stone.
Led to where more lines on the ground – and memories of old tides cry.

How seeing an old friend in a stale breath.
Reflects a scar that brings only war.
It is a gift where mouths left gaped in awe.

Eyes that see what fingers grasp - A fitted shape inside a marble glass.
Pandora burns empty the papers from inside
Her secrets left in a crypt of whispers.

The grains of sand sifting through everyone’s hands, echo the silence left behind.

A silent wail she screams inside, choking on the ashes of her own mistakes.
The coughing voice screams only death.

Begging for its second chance, she meets her end.
The hand that fed returns no remorse.
For a sorry heat does not forgive a burning iron stain cut in a heart.
And the blind drink on the flowing river trace of blood that it leaves.

A bitter taste of brine renewed, for the love of the sand and the sea.
The breeze brings only comfort here as the sun shines in your blackened shades.

Broken twigs and leaves warm the floor of autumn’s new colours.

Sorry, first bit needed a short edit.
 

Imgormiel

Part of the furniture
Joined
Apr 18, 2004
Messages
4,372
If you don't get what this is about don't hesitate to ask.. :)
 

Ezteq

Queen of OT
Joined
Jan 4, 2004
Messages
13,457
This reminds me (in feel if not actual theme) of a really awesome poem by EA Poe called Lenore I think it is, it is about the lost love from his other poem the raven.

Has that same feeling to it, powerful stuff, I like it. Not sure I understand it but i don't think its about a girl, feels to me more as if its about the sea or a battle or something, I generally find though with poetry i dont always understand the stuff i like and some of the stuff i do understand...i dont like lol
 

Imgormiel

Part of the furniture
Joined
Apr 18, 2004
Messages
4,372
This reminds me (in feel if not actual theme) of a really awesome poem by EA Poe called Lenore I think it is, it is about the lost love from his other poem the raven.

Has that same feeling to it, powerful stuff, I like it. Not sure I understand it but i don't think its about a girl, feels to me more as if its about the sea or a battle or something, I generally find though with poetry i dont always understand the stuff i like and some of the stuff i do understand...i dont like lol

This is actually about the way people talk shit about others and some people are strong enough to not dignify it with an answer. Indeed go so far as to kill them off psychologically and the rest. You blank out their existence. In this case it is about women, but it could be about people in general :)
 

Users who are viewing this thread

Top Bottom