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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Arts · #2164995
competition writing
The Art Of Being Felt

On one cold winters day, an old splintering attic stood
Rusted to the hinges all the way to the fabrics wood
it shook to the breath of an outlook paddock pressed
Still sustaining its spirit it birthed as a nomadic guest
To a vacational home for youth to stay where it remained
And yet to this day you can still hear the chimes of its immortal parade when it rains
among all the clatter is clutter only seen by one
a mess of memories that never leaves the shadowing of the sun
where thistles thrive and entwine around a box where it lies
I pry it open crouched, balanced on what that truth could hide
inside was a blue felt tip pen and an album of a single photo of i
but since time is no friend, wonder is all that is supplied
In the photo rest myself asleep, a rabbit and that same felt pen
Thirty odd years have passed since that image and i never made amends
for you see that item was stolen, during the sound of the night
with no being in sight to change the direction of its plight
All i remember was the difference between hand and eye
with a little touch of death from "will i ever be able to write"
i promised myself i would return it, and all i found awaken
but for now i dig deeper, because it was only me in that picture in the original taken

I MUST DOUBLE CHECK MY RESOURCES

..

*eminem/hip-hop*
From the script of 8 mile and during its run time
there is A character, based on the topic of tongue tied
Born in Warren with buckteeth and big ears added
This name rings out as B-Rabbit who's mom is the last to have it
With force and dominance the being bounces on set
yet i fell it is bringing me no closer to the changes that met

*chinese mythology*
The Year of the Rabbit from celestial Zodiac belief
Lucky colors, numbers and flowers is what it has conceived
the god of age with wood, fire, earth, water and gold
turning names like Queen Victoria through the days of the bold
Though something is still missing in my truth to behold
matter itself that i must still locate in this story untold

*rural land ownership*
urban assaults and segregation for the rabbit species free
labeled as major pest's when ever they can be seen
They have chewed through Spain, France and everything in-between
un-challenging others terrain as they procreate and leave
Not only notorious but just a myth within a myth of damage
Even if i found an answer at this time it would be worth less then my time managed

..
I fall back on my buttocks with the photo and cross my legs
not scarred that i might not ever find the owner of this pen
but rather,
that i was close enough to touch it and missed it in the end

and then like that it was gone
© Copyright 2018 Noraah Heel (knows_candy at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2164995-The-Art-Of-Being-Felt