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She Wants To Sing
Author: Pamela O'Brien

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She sat in a quiet attic room
With guitar in hand
Put her head down and began to cry

She can’t seem to achieve
The music of her heart
Not even sure she should try

The sun beams down
And warms the length of her back
And she releases a sorrowful sigh

She would sell her soul
To find the melody she’s missing
And let it carry her into the sky

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Comments on this poem/writing:

MartinV (63.208.62.25) -- Friday, March 14 2003, 10:57 pm

Sensitive picture you painted here, for me, this is what "I" saw...,

Pamela,
I can see her holding that guitar across her lap, her head bowed down over it. I see the sun's rays giving dust particles their stage where they dance the grace of ballerinas. I hear her softly sobbing and she lifts her head in sorrow and then, I hear her b r e a th that sigh. I can even smell the musty odor that premeates the attic.

Yea, I like this poem, a LOT! Beautiful presentation, easy for me to get into this one. I owe you one Pam, but, really, I can't write the way you do, but I'm sure glad you do!

Thank You (say that fast 3 times.)
MartinV
Pamela (194.125.158.17) -- Tuesday, March 18 2003, 01:45 pm

Wow

Martin, I have never had such a strong response to a poem before and it is accepted with open arms and a huge thank you. I am surprised this painted such a vivid picture for you, but that girl is me and this poem was written minutes after I hung my head and cried. Maybe that is why it seems so real to you when you read it - it is real.
Thank you and your welcome (say that three times real fast :O)
MartinV (67.28.89.239) -- Tuesday, March 18 2003, 06:46 pm

Please, don't think me crule, but...,

Pam,
The most meaningful poems come from real hearts, soft and warm, expressing with words so, hard to find, that which the heart, shares with the sole, and the sole with the mind, until it is expressed, by written lines.

If it must be, that you must cry, to write again, such loving lines, I ask that you excercise your heart twice a day, and share with us the fruit of tears, in each and every line.

MartinV
Pamela (194.125.158.230) -- Wednesday, March 19 2003, 06:08 pm

Martin

Those words of yours were like a poem on their own. I must say that I agree with what you said, and I will do my best to share my tears through my poetry.
LinzAy (64.12.96.74) -- Wednesday, March 19 2003, 09:46 pm

......

I don't know why this poem hit me so hard, considering i don't play guitar or have an attic...but the sorrow and little bit of sad frustration i felt and the image i saw was all too real. Beautiful poem Pam.
LinzAy (64.12.96.74) -- Wednesday, March 19 2003, 09:48 pm

okay so me being

the idiot that i am, i just read your comment back to martin (the 1st one)....the just may be the reason it felt so real to me...hehe.....i'm such a loser
MartinV (67.30.64.132) -- Wednesday, March 19 2003, 11:01 pm

I'm confused, girl talk does that to me.

Don't know who said what to who? All I know is that of all things, none of you ladies are losers, for shame, you could say such a thing!

MartinV
Pamela (194.125.158.105) -- Wednesday, March 19 2003, 11:24 pm

Tears

Our tears contain more secrets then the entire world has ever known. Our tears are a vault of all that lies within our spirits. When they fall, they release us from our suffering. But they also make us suffer. So I suggest you have a pen in hand to relieve yourself of that pain and suffering. Write a poem. Soothe the soul. Discard the hurt. That's what this poem was and what every poem should be. Only catch?! You have to suffer.........
MartinV (67.30.64.132) -- Wednesday, March 19 2003, 11:58 pm

To Pam: Your tears are watery words, flowing down your cheek

Hey, Pam,

Let the words flow down your cheeks, until they flow no more, no heart can contain such a watery vocabulary that peace will not subside the flow, in time. Time, what is time? That is all we have, it gives us a purpose, that is what we seek. So, let the tears feed the purpose, and soon, again, a flower, full of beauty will be all we see and all we know.

You are the purpose, you are the flower, stop the flow and grow, be beautiful, just like your poems, a flower, every one, "they are you!" How fortunate you are you to be a ballerina, "breath taking" is your dance.

MartinV
Martin Vann (67.30.64.132) -- Thursday, March 20 2003, 12:09 am

Do I have permission to address you as...,

Sunray?

MartinV
Pamela (194.125.158.51) -- Sunday, March 23 2003, 07:30 pm

Sure

Sure if you want to :o) And thanks for the kind words as usual!
Martin Vann (4.244.171.222) -- Wednesday, May 19 2004, 01:12 am

Searched for this poem your words, burn, my heart

Pam,

I love the tenderness of this poem. I came back to feel your heart, and thank you Dreamer, would not have found her, with out your help. Pam, where hae you been,perhaps,I have missed your new poems.

This one, is held inside of me, just wanted you to know, I love this poem. Now, tell us, where are you, write to us again.

Lord, I love this poem.

MartinV
Pamela (66.38.146.126) -- Wednesday, May 19 2004, 02:32 am

I AM HERE!

I AM HERE! I AHEVN'T ABANDONED YOU ALL! I JUST HAVEN'T BEEN AS INSPIRED AS USUAL LATELY. I DID SUBMIT A FEW NEW ONES THOUGH MARTIN - TRY READING "IN THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS" OR "DARE TO DREAM" OR "SKIPPING STONES TO PASS THE TIME".
THANK YOU AS ALWAYS FOR YOUR KIND WORDS - THIS POEM HOLDS SUCH A DEAR PLACE IN MY HEART FOR IT WAS WRITTEN WITH SUCH VULNERABILITY. I AM STILL SEARCHING FOR THE MELODY WHICH WILL CARRY ME TO THE SKY..........
 
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