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Author Name: FreeFirestoneFeinberg 5 Comments
Date Added: April 05, 2012 14:04:53 Average Score: (Needs 2)
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Music was a shelter.
Long I hid within it.
And it protected me.

Painting was a pastime.
Color became escape.
It allowed me to run.

Poetry is a bird.
It twists in the air and
Laughs at me from the sky.

Why I play with
Words ó I canít tell you. I guess
They are something of a cure.

Author's Notes:
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'MUSIC WAS A SHELTER' Copyright © Firestone Feinberg
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Comment By: FreeDean on April 8, 2012 08:18:07 PM Report
David, you don't need to tell us why! Your words cure you and us too...  ~Dean

Comment By: FreeAlistair Muir on April 6, 2012 09:18:17 AM Report
'It twists in the air and laughs at me from the sky...' -- just an awesome line -- you do not play with words you form beautiful music and pictures with them.  I am in awe sir -- thank you for this gift.


Comment By: FreeAeon Onopka on April 5, 2012 09:42:40 PM Report
Just divine. The metaphor in the third stanza makes my heart soar!

Comment By: FreeShe Whispers on April 5, 2012 03:39:55 PM Report

As poets we all have the power to create what we want with poetry

or our paintings that express our moods with swirling colors..

 Thank you for all your great commenst you leave on my humble poems I feel so blessed!!

Love ~ Scarlett

Comment By: FreeTomahawk on April 5, 2012 03:21:40 PM Report

Sounds like my life, dude. Hey, life without art is no life.




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