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The Sweetest Voice: Why a Dove Can't Fly Near The Sun
Author:
Aurielle Little
Published:
7/28/2008 8:43:15 PM
Pages:
304
Keywords:
abuse,ache,all ages,allpoetry,alone,ap,apples,Aurielle,Aurielle G. Little,Aurielle Gracian Little,Au...
Audience Level:
Mature
Genres:
Fiction / General
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Aurielle's poem holds a great amount grace, passion, flow, voice, imagery, and unique metaphors. She always ends her poem with a sigh of thought... Setted within the century of Shakespeare, where such legend poets had grazed, she writes classical. Upon her windowsill, she lays her hair tis gentle and writes. She writes of love, peace, hate and stress. She indeed speaks from her soul and mind which many can not. Such words she creates upon lines as Romeo somewhere listens... She is influenced by Shakespeare, (same birth) Elizabeth Barring, Edgar Allen Poe, and Robert. Catch her daydreaming upon her pen as it paints such beauty
and though she is only 19...
"If you love Shakesphear or Edgar Allen Poe or Elizabeth Barring I recommend you read it. A journal entry from a discriptive deep teenage woman spoken slightly old but remains current english"
"Your poems are very profound. There is something refined and focused about your words" -Jake Hiser
"egad!, as the great bard once said: very piquant!..i felt rather ebulient upon reading these dithyrambs..love it all.." -Unknown
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Aurielle has written over 400 poems and stories since 15 years old. She has managed to keep over 200 of them in her book known as "The Sweetest Voice." Yes, her poems are covered with passion, grace, humbleness, virtue, personality, love, heartache. It is full of every genre especially gospel being brought as a relighouis christian. "It is God who gave me this talent so it is he who derves the praise" she says. The oldest of four, she does think of her self as the mother though knowone acts like she is but she knows she is the wisest with the highest goals. She is a women of thoughts and imagery. A nineteen year old american with jamaican parents, she only reads oldpoetry such as Shakesphear, Edgar Allen Poe, and Elizabeth Barring, who she has been compared to since the age of 15. Though it was hard for her to write being in a household of "school and that's it" she managed the time to sit alone and write. When she could not because it was not permit during school days, she would write it in her room. Her work from the begining reads like a journal. From page to page you can see how she became skillful as her style showforth. She uses all divices: personification, metaphors, similies, imagery, voice yet with a little different style. She mixes reality spoken english with old english. Any age can understand her. Her poem is not only memorizeable masterpeices but it's drama-like spoken where one who speaks it often feel as if he or she is in a little play whereever you are whether its in your bedroom or at school. She teaches sometimes about life: the pain and happiness. She is indeed wise as she gathers everything and turns it to poetry. The poems do involve alot of beaty for each poem presents itself as a speacial painting to be bookmarked to be read over again. She has many other book she is working on such as "New Light" and "Land of Poetry" She has also written a few plays such "Gift of roses" which is her favorite. "My masterpeice play" she calls it. Moreover other then she enjoys painting, fashion designing, modeling, going to church and choreographing. You never know what ideas is in her head. Her mind is thought as a world of feilds.
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The Willow Wind
Her voice of calm speaks upon the field of sunrays,
As her spirit sways with soft beautiful love and grace.
Her humbleness still nurtures the fields of her heart,
Though she knows the love of her life is absent.
Balletting below the sunrise of her love's memories,
So my love, I dance under your once sweet happiness.
Yet I don’t want to be forever the willow wind,
Trying to keep my heart tuned in merry melodies,
With a voice so light that the flowers stay loved.
Lovely memories of you sometimes holds my heart,
As I watch her tears cascade during her sleeps alone,
Her love that left to rest upon another women's feild.
Forever I wait though you may never come to me.
You may find another women and take her to your heart.
Giving her my love I added to your wondrous love.
So beautiful, she may want to stay in your heart,
And leave me to be forever the willow wind... |
She Shall Never Know
His eyes seep through his pane glass
Where the smile shines the young lady's room
His eyes explore for her facade once again
Her sheets stare wholesome,
Skilled in such flimsiness
Her curtains seems to skip with such poise
To the audience of the watched wind.
The extent embroiders her every brogue
How it leaves his nose to dwell
in the bouquet of her beauty.
Keenness begins to vision
When his love will arrive again,
To his eyes of a firm leaf.
She not knowing
For her mind molded this claylike vow
Laid on a staircase of yarned weeps
To never again deem love's bid
It shall never give to her.
His eyes wait through the pane glass
Where the smile lights the young lady's house
he shall never see her again
and she shall never know...
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Confessing
I lie within the stillness of your beautiful eyes
Seems as if you lay them where my heart is
taking every solo spark, you slowly stroke them
Gently, within me as I glare
Love, I find my self upon a bridge above your
beautiful love that drifts underneath me.
Time knows when this bridge shall push my soul within
When my heart confesses its impatient desires
Caressing what love is, you multiply them again
I feel aphrodite as she sighs within me as I feel her
Gorgeous wings spread from both of the sides of my soul
While I fly within the white light of your beauty
You have blessed my life with the purest love
My hands waves across the warm velvet winds of love
Melodic winds that sings of your lovely voice
My ears echoes “So in love” over and over
Its violet sky captures it within
Twirling, dancing from your astounding melody
I fall twice in the sheets of your soul
You silently rock me gently within your calm smiles, tis quiet
Like the leaves that sways in autumn’s mild times
I dance in the distance from you and their I turn into your arms
You play me over with your rhythmic whispers...
whispers like sun rain, softly falling beneath my ears,
Tensing from the drips of your soft breathe
Beautiful breathe… I find my heart somewhere in you.
Oh love, I do not want any other love...
For you send me where dreams cannot fantasized
Where poor love have only pondered for and
Have never received.
Beautiful love... somehow you feed the rain
of my emotions...Must I confess now, my love
before my emotions come inhale me and how would
I see you and see love's amazing world within?...
I'm confessing my love for you
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