Rebecca:
or; a poem.
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
My eyes seem trapped
in the swirling, spinning vortexes -
captured by the smooth curving lines,
alternating dark and light,
hidden messages in a visual braille -
virtual Morse code -
evoking images of songs unsung.
The curling pictures, cutting through the dark red rosewood,
begging the caress of my worn, tired hands.
I feel the stiff grain of the sitka,
slowly absorbing the finish,
shining through in a paradoxically dull light.
My hands move.
The callouses cry out in agony and ecstasy,
bringing forth bellowing melodies -
soaring highs,
guttural lows,
a song that turns my emotions to a heady soup -
concealing, coalescing into another ode,
giving birth to another minuet,
changing pace through another sonata.
I am nothing of myself.
She is inert without me.
Together, we create.
© 2007 Braeden Jones
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For those of you who wonder what may be going on here, read it here,
in the swirling, spinning vortexes -
captured by the smooth curving lines,
alternating dark and light,
hidden messages in a visual braille -
virtual Morse code -
evoking images of songs unsung.
The curling pictures, cutting through the dark red rosewood,
begging the caress of my worn, tired hands.
I feel the stiff grain of the sitka,
slowly absorbing the finish,
shining through in a paradoxically dull light.
My hands move.
The callouses cry out in agony and ecstasy,
bringing forth bellowing melodies -
soaring highs,
guttural lows,
a song that turns my emotions to a heady soup -
concealing, coalescing into another ode,
giving birth to another minuet,
changing pace through another sonata.
I am nothing of myself.
She is inert without me.
Together, we create.
© 2007 Braeden Jones
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
For those of you who wonder what may be going on here, read it here,
, but interesting.
