Monday, July 4, 2011

10 lines

The city lights are growing dim,
the dark alleys find new companions.

An artist gives his boldest stroke,
the pallete however, appears too grey.

I stand away soaked by the rain,
the solemn cello strikes a chord in me.

The bookstore is closing for the day,
the new tales fail to evoke the finer sensations.

I walk away lonely and torn,
the nightbird and the moon show a magical path.


  1. its melancholy. i wouldn't say that the feel hasn't come out well, but when you're writing about these things try to use more unconventional(poetic) metaphors. would be more interesting.:)
    for eg, instead of 'the new tales fail to evoke the finer sensations' how about 'new tales have old wine that the bottle fails to sell' ?
    think about is, i'm not imposing. merely trying to suggest some leads.

  2. aah..shall keep in mind, next time I sit to write:).