RHYMES FROM THE ROAD

Rhymes From The Road

Rhymes From The Road

Blog Article

Sometimes late at night, when the stars is shining bright, I compose my feelings. It's strange how the world sounds different on the path. The wind carries music, and I collect them in my notebook. Maybe one day, these scattered poems will form a story. Until then, they're just a snapshot of the crazy journey I'm on.

A Silverstein Sonnet

A haunting tale unfolds within these stanzas. Cormac, a spirited lad, faces a cunning crone deep in the thicket. Her words are enigmatic, leaving him to ponder his own destiny. The crone's expression is both unnerving, hinting at power she holds dearly.

  • With the aid of her spells, the crone reveals a vision about Cormac's life.
  • Fear grips him as he attempts to comprehend the crone's predictions.
  • Can Cormac listen to the crone's advice? The answer lies within his own choices.

Beneath the Dark Things Whisper: A McCarthy Poem

A desolate landscape, bleached by an unforgiving light, stretches before us. The wind, a mournful cry, whispers through the skeletal trees of long-dead things. Here, where shadows dance and memories fade, Cormac McCarthy's words resonate, painting a stark picture of human decay.

His verses weave a tapestry of cruelty, where the innocent are torn by the relentless void. Yet, even in this abyss, there is a glimmer of beauty, a fragile ember that flickers against the encroaching doom.

  • Conceivably it is in the face of such profound despair that we find our truest strength.
  • Or, maybe, McCarthy simply exposes the raw and terrible truth of our existence.

The Giving Tree Meets The Waste Land

In a strange collision of narratives, Shel Silverstein's whimsical fable, Silverstein’s Giving Tree, finds itself adrift in the desolate landscape of T.S. Eliot's Wasteland. The once vibrant tree, forever devoted to his needs, now stands as a solitary figure against a backdrop of broken fragments and barren souls. Its leaves, stripped bare by years of selfless giving, echo the withered hopes of Eliot's characters. The simple joy of the boy’s presence is replaced by a haunting silence, mirroring Eliot's desolation. Yet, within this desolate tableau, perhaps a glimmer of hope persists: Might the tree's enduring love inspire rebirth even in the most barren of souls? This unlikely meeting invites us to contemplate the enduring power within love and sacrifice, even in the face of profound loss.

A Pale Bat in Apocalyptic Dusk

The horizon bled into a swathe of burgundy, the last vestiges of glow swallowed by the encroaching gloom. Silhouettes stretched long and sinister across the ravaged landscape, draped an eerie light upon the ruined structures that dotted the once-thriving settlement. A lone pale bat, its wings silhouetted against the dying light, hovered above a heap of debris. Its eyes looked to hold the weight of the world's end, reflecting the hopelessness that saturated the air.

Silverstein's Falls on The Border

A chill wind whispers across the parched earth, carrying with it echoes of a forgotten legend. Out there, beneath the relentless sun, sleeps a secret as old as time #books itself. A shadowyfigure {knownby those who dare stalks the threshold, its gaze fixed on a world teetering on the brink of destruction.

  • {The{ air grows thick with anticipation as travelerssteer clear the path that leads into the unknown.
  • Legends speak of {ancient evils awakened by a force beyond comprehension, and some{ believe{that Silverstein's shadow is its herald.

Will this line hold against the encroaching darkness, or will Silverstein's grip consume all in its path? The answer, shrouded in uncertainty, waits to be unveiledrevealeddiscovered.

Report this page