This is a static copy of In the Rose Garden, which existed as the center of the western Utena fandom for years. Enjoy. :)
Any poets out there?
I finally wrote a poem after a good deal of time, and comments would be good.
The Dance
Playing at glitter and plastic you dance, those lights are made to blind,
Your eyes are closed and painted with sequins,
Dreaming of being ‘the one that got away,’
Outside they poison themselves together with casual grace,
You talk to a friend, share superficial dreams of happiness,
And he plays the romantic, sad voice and broken heart guitar,
Jaded and eternally old, his angel’s smile winning over heaven,
There aren’t enough promises of bliss for him to change his roll,
He talks to a girl, beautiful and young, she tells of him of being beaten,
A matter of fact tale of how her brother broke her arm,
Of how her ex-boyfriend never told her how she shone,
She plays the game of modern glitter girl,
She’s kissing another girl, fleeting moments of pretend softness,
And she’s in love with any man evil and self-obsessed,
Searching for a game to call her own,
Each face a lie made to pass the time.
Do you remember, when you where real?
Earnest and unknowing, thinking that fighting against the world is enough,
Waiting, stretching like painted canvases over human skin,
Whispering that you will never change,
Until, that day, the mirror shows you a gilded self
Edit: Added more
Last edited by Iris (03-27-2007 04:38:31 PM)
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Oddly contemplative she writes the lines
She scratches them out
Where have they gone, the things she wished to say
They sit so fervent in her mind
Tug at her heart
But her hands can not find the keys, nor grasp the pen
Every line slips away
Nothing quite seems right
And with every moment longer
She searches for the hope
That the words, lines she has lost
Will one day be heard, taken in
All her wants and wishes are lost within them
Trapped in those things she can not say
Her voice too proud to speak them
Her hands too wise to write them
Fingertips too afraid to type them
What will she do with these things
These lines
That sit and fade within her
Rising and falling as she breathes
Rising and falling as she pleads
For a release, for a moment
To let go and have all that is unsaid
Heard and remembered
And another for good measure....
There are now a thousand lovers
Left begging at her door, for every heart she breaks to pieces
There are now a hundred more
Who clamor to her chamber begging short release
Would she give up this dance of hours
If she found one who gave her peace
In a heart beat she has risen to watch the sun rise from afar
The breaking light across the mountains
Showing her the world
Ever tangled in her webs she would say she’s doing fine
Then she’ll break down like a child knowing she’s lost the time
All her life stretches away and she wishes though she regrets
To know the answers to the prayers she has not spoken yet
Will she see me in the shadows
Will she feel me in her dreams
Knowing that for forever love is never how it seems
And she can keep on searching for one that makes her feel
But I’ll always be the only one she ever felt was real
Last edited by Alithea (03-28-2007 03:52:17 PM)
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Iris wrote:
Any poets out there?
I finally wrote a poem after a good deal of time, and comments would be good.
The Dance
Playing at glitter and plastic you dance, those lights are made to blind,
Your eyes are closed and painted with sequins,
Dreaming of being ‘the one that got away,’
Outside they poison themselves together with casual grace,
You talk to a friend, share superficial dreams of happiness,
And he plays the romantic, sad voice and broken heart guitar,
Jaded and eternally old, his angel’s smile winning over heaven,
There aren’t enough promises of bliss for him to change his roll,
He talks to a girl, beautiful and young, she tells of him of being beaten,
A matter of fact tale of how her brother broke her arm,
Of how her ex-boyfriend never told her how she shone,
She plays the game of modern glitter girl,
She’s kissing another girl, fleeting moments of pretend softness,
And she’s in love with any man evil and self-obsessed,
Searching for a game to call her own,
Each face a lie made to pass the time.
Do you remember, when you where real?
Earnest and unknowing, thinking that fighting against the world is enough,
Waiting, stretching like painted canvases over human skin,
Whispering that you will never change,
Until, that day, the mirror shows you a gilded self
Edit: Added more
I can personally relate to this poem It's very hard to tell if someone's true to you or if your feelings for someone else is as pure as you think it is.
You misspelled two words, I think. Then again, I think I misspelled "misspelled"
If I ever write a poem, maybe I'll post it on here, too.
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