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Poem, good? bad? pros? cons?
This is the prologue to my book of poems that I plan on writing. Not sure if one could justify it as an epic poem, though. It will be written to tell a story but not in the same format as such great epics as The Aeneid, Iliad or Odyssey, and will definetely not be as long.
In any event, the book of poems will be called "Abigail" (as the name I choose for all my protagonists' 'prefect dream girl'). Here is simply the prologue, don't know when I'll get the next 'chapter' done or even if I'll continue it because, to be honest, I'm a little concerned about it. Wondering if anyone will actually like it. So if anyone could tell me the pros and cons, or help me with it, it would be greatly appreciated. Thanks!
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Abigail: A Love Story
Prologue
Today I have the courage to gather my thoughts
Along with my adored emotions, intimate and precious.
Fantastic things, of which I could not possibly grasp
That I had forcefully kept locked and stored away
For good.
For what use? But the use for my own torment
Preventing me from ever learning that which I most feared to know.
Whether from a life long ago, or from hidden depths unknown
It shall now be seen and the unknown be known.
This is the beginning of a tale
A tale of this heart, like many others, bundled in confusion
Unable to speak, unable to even whisper the tenderness it once could.
But today!—an end to the turmoil!
The words left unspoken and etched in the mind
Shall be heard! and heard today!
From those whose souls share even the slightest bit of
Love (Oh, how it has been long since last I said it!)
They shall hear it deafeningly, awakening them from their endless sleep
And that which made them live once, to which they had lost,
Shall rise and live again!
I bring it upon myself to answer the question of the hidden
To know what is that word armed with four letters
That when softly whispered can bring about tears of joy or sorrow.
How she has not been mentioned in so long, nor a cry of her name,
But she is remembered, that I guarantee, and her tale is same as mine.
I implore you, dear Listener, before it is too late as it is for me,
Awake! Awake from your deathless slumber!
Take heed! these sentimental thoughts from myself, a torn old man,
As I return to whence I came, a youth haunted by romantic dreams,
You will know, as I do,
For the answer I claim lies with her.
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