Her Rock

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    • Sweetgirl2386
    • is busy with work and....UGH MIDTERMS!!!!!!!!!!! LOL

    Her Rock

    Her Rock

    She sat and stirred in his eyes.
    She was amazed at what she saw.
    His eyes brightly danced when the sun had set.

    Her eyes would water with the thought.
    Her heart was filled with love.
    She couldn't explain her feelings.
    That's why they drove her crazy.

    Everyone said that she wasted her time.
    That he will never show up, after all this time.
    She was longed to be a bird that would fly far away.
    She pitied every person that put her down.

    She longed to be a flame.
    That brightly danced at night.
    She saw her love fall from the sky.
    To tell her that he had return.

    He was everything she had imagined.
    Aroused by their love...whick quickly filled their hearts.
    He had said I want to be your rock, to love and to trust.
    That's when he became her rock

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    quickwrite commented on Her Rock

    09-25-2009

    That's a strong poem, I especially like your use of imagery, it helps paint a powerful picture. I too have felt similar feelings for another like this and wrote a similar poem, "Starry Night", so I completely understand your emotions.

    Sweetgirl2386

    09/28/2009

    Thanks for your comment. I created that poem six months ago, out of the blue because I was bored. I hope to come up with more poems or similar poems like this one. But sometimes I do get what they call writers block, which I can't stand.

    Sweetgirl2386

    09/28/2009

    Thanks for your comment. I created that poem six months ago, out of the blue because I was bored. I hope to come up with more poems or similar poems like this one. But sometimes I do get what they call writers block, which I can't stand.

    Nadia1986 commented on Her Rock

    09-25-2009

    I thought it was well done and it made me smile to read it.

    Sweetgirl2386

    09/28/2009

    Thanks for your comment. It makes me smile as well, since that poem makes me think of happy things each time I'm not having a good day. But thanks again for your comment.

    The true philosopher and the true poet are one, and a beauty, which is truth, and a truth, which is beauty, is the aim of both.

    Ralph Waldo Emerson, American Poet (1803-1882)

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