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Sing me a song of velvet birds
Of smoke and thunder in the sky
A rhyme of Johnny's devil herds
The bloodless cowboys' mournful cry

Hum me a tune of butterflies
Their bones dissolving on the stream
A lullaby of slow surprise
The acrid smell of oil and steam

Tell me a tale of purple rain
Falling onto a golden field
Lilt me a line of gentle pain
As the soft ground begins to yield

Sing me to sleep, let me escape
To distant, rambling plains of sleep
And as my violet thoughts take shape
I pray myself my soul to keep
©2009 =Francine1991
:iconfrancine1991:

Author's Comments

Because anywhere is more sensible than here.

Critiques


:iconcel3131:
While this isn't an amazing poem, it still has its own little charm. It seems to me, simply due to the mass amounts of descriptions changing at every line, that it's a little hard to follow along and pay attention without simply reading the words but not absorbing them. So unless someone is concentrating on reading, they might not be able to appreciate it fully.

The words you use to rhyme all work well, except in the 2nd paragraph where 'stream' and 'steam' are used. I think the words are a little too similar and it just sounds a little off.

Also in the last paragraph, you repeat sleep in the first and 2nd lines, breaking the nice rhyme with keep. Perhaps replacing the first sleep with another world, like slumber?

Very pretty, you always do have a way with words.
The Artist thought this was FAIR
3 out of 3 deviants thought this was fair.

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:icondtee-sawk:
THATS poetry.

--
Those who say something is impossible should not interrupt the person doing it

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May 6
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