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Author Name: Premiumsheedreams 17 Comments
Date Added: March 06, 2012 20:03:03 Average Score: (Needs 2)
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Type: Rhyming
Category: General Add To Favorites | Text Only
 
where do dead poems go?
 
 
 
 
Where do dead poems go?
 
 
where do rainbows go
when it rains at midnight?
where do stars go
in the bright morning light?
 
where do whispers go
when they fall short
of your ears?
where do kisses go
drenched by my tears?
 
where do songs go
when two hearts
forget how to sing?
where do hugs go
when we forget how to cling?
 
where do dead poems go
when they fall short
of the page?
where does our play go
when lost is the stage?
 
Author's Notes:
more questions surface concerning poems that we sit down to write and the thoughts/feelings are no longer there.  this re-post was inspired by David's current poem.
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Comments:
Comment By: FreeJohn Armlovich on March 7, 2012 04:46:17 PM Report


Your opening two lines                                              "where do rainbows go


                                                                                when it rains at midnight?"


remind me of the song Rainbow in the Dark by Dio. a great poem you have here that asks many of life's questions. good luck finding the answers,


John

Comment By: FreeFirestone Feinberg on March 7, 2012 01:30:58 PM Report
Beautiful poem about where things go -- especially loved the last verse about poems...  I sometimes wonder if everything we say travels through space and collects somewhere -- like the sound-waves just keep going on and on -- (although i don't think that's quite proper physics -- it's poetic physics  -- what do i know -- i hated school) So glad you re-posted this gem!  -- glad my poem inspired you to do so.   Great to read all the (old) comments!  --David
Comment By: Freee. Gene Myers on March 6, 2012 09:19:55 PM Report
Your opening two lines...

where do rainbows go

when it rains at midnight?



Made me think ....  Just what does the back side of a rainbow look like?

I was once told by a poet, whom I thought at the time knew lots about poetry, that questions had no place in poetry.  

I like it

Gene

Comment By: FreeMary F. Charest on October 31, 2010 11:46:13 AM Report
Mythinks they go into the annals of time...to be retrieved later by a creative mind.  This is a very interesting poem and the title caught my attention.  Great work, Linda.  I like the style, too.
Mary

Comment By: FreeAlfred on February 12, 2010 07:30:57 PM Report
Good things have a way of disapearing when we'd want  them to remain. I like to hold on to the good things in my memorty and forget the bad. Not always easy, but I like to try.
Comment By: FreeDragonfly on January 17, 2010 07:31:34 PM Report
Great title and questions for us to ponder sheedreams as we suddenly wonder where the time went as well. I think John Lennon once said "It's all out there to be tapped into." So that's where it goes I believe too, whether written, spoken, or thought :D      
Comment By: FreeFilthy on November 22, 2009 02:44:21 AM Report
This is such a good poem...the title is brilliant! I do have to agree with those below me. Poems never die! Great stuff here, Linda.
Comment By: FreeJennifer on November 20, 2009 09:51:40 PM Report
good questions put in poetic form. My favoirte line is about the poems.... You drew me in with the title. I like that!
Jen

Comment By: FreeThe Bag Lady on November 20, 2009 10:31:20 AM Report
Ahhh, Ljo~!  Love the quizzical part of your thoughts~!!  Indeed, those rainbows....where are they?...Do they hide behind the moon?....I have to say that I believe there are no dead poems...If a thought spills from a poet, then it is forever, no matter if anyone reads the work....Poems don't die, IMO, they just get better with time....
Good job.....Margaret....

Comment By: FreeAlison Storm Wolf on November 18, 2009 02:09:16 PM Report
many questions and I liked the way you wove personal things in too.
Ali x
Comment By: FreeTina Steele on November 16, 2009 10:23:46 PM Report
very interesting :)
Comment By: FreeShe Whispers on November 16, 2009 09:00:10 AM Report
THis really makes the mind ponder alright.... 
You have such a great way to express yourself..
 THis could have several answers.... awesome poem....

Comment By: FreeAndrew on November 15, 2009 10:48:23 PM Report
Great!  Talk about generating food for thought, even with something you'd normally think about - like rainbows at night and whispers falling short.  keep it up....
Comment By: Freeb w mayer on November 15, 2009 04:22:24 PM Report
What a beautiful group of thoughts!! I love it!!
Comment By: FreeJessica Ruth Myr on November 15, 2009 03:33:17 PM Report
A moving series of questions, and elegantly put.

Dead poems never go anywhere; they stay, and they gnaw at you, until you release them.
Comment By: FreeBarbara Demasson on November 15, 2009 03:07:19 PM Report
Oh my goodness....where do I start? Questions gallore and my brain wants to take a run at them all...but have no fear lovely Linda...I will not go on forever here. (A promise I'll try hard to keep.) I'll address the one that grabbed and shook me.

"where do songs go

when two hearts

forget how to sing?" ...do all love songs go to the same place? Do they go anywhere at all? Or do they just play on inside a broken heart...with incredible sadness but grow fainter and fainter with time? I know you just said "songs" and not "love songs" but I read into it. Okay...I'm back on track now. I don't believe hearts that once knew how to sing ever forget how...they just wait for new music to start to play. Oh...and I just have to say one last thing...poems never die, they can be resuscited at any time. Great pondering here girlfriend!

 

I'll shut up now. =))

 

~Barbara~ *zipping it*

 

 

Comment By: FreeHarold Ham McLelland on November 15, 2009 03:04:33 PM Report

Where indeed!  Maybe they all go to Germany like the hunger after having a snickers bar?  Everyone searches for what they think is lost.  Be they Rainbows, Stars, Whispers, Kisses, Songs, Hugs, Poems or Plays.  Maybe they aren't really lost at all.  They may just want to be appreciated for how special they are when we find them.  Wonderful write Linda Jo!  Ham






 


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