*hurk*
-
Memory. (now in stanzas)
I miss you. How long must it be until I see your beautiful brown eyes again? When will your face no longer be a holographic daydream? And we never said ...
-
The Happiness of Sadness
Your birds chime the happy hour I'm a blue forgotten flower In a beau forest sereneI'm walking in the pearl drop rainYour smiles' a rainbow once againFrom an old forgotten ...
-
My Song
Like a Bird, like the Wind,In a flight of Song,Like a Word, like a Warrior,Steadfast in beleif,Like a Straight in the Bendand a Legend that ceasedTo EndLike a Hawk, like ...
-
I miss the Rain
Dost thou knowstWhat you mean to me?O keeper of my sanityYou showed me the beauty of sadnessYou acepted my ragged heartYou were patient with my unexperienced mind.O beautiful tear, full ...
-
The Black Sun
I wrote this last minute and posted it hours before it was technically 4th July and end of comp. I didn't have time to put her into action, only time ...
-
You know you love him.
Spoiler! : This is something odd I wrote. I know, most of it doesn't make sense, I don't fully understand all of it myself. And it is kinda....cliche... And the ...
-
Lonely Horizon
I once had a great character that sadly could not be used. I was quite attached to her, so I made her a song. ...
-
Vampire Bat
to let off steam.
-
No Shame
An unapologetic disillusioned idealist.
-
To a Shadow
A message in a bottle to find when your seas get lonely.
-
I Failed
The proud speech of a great failure.
-
Broken Breath
The Siren calls.
-
Seven Year Small Town Blues
Unpacking some old stuff I'm still shaking off.
-
About the Author
A piece written by Forbye for the YWS Olympics 2015.
-
For a Friend and another.
Something special for two friends of mine.
-
A Promise, of Sort
Like a song without music.
-
Nobody Knows
Foreword- my songs almost always have questionable structures. Deal with it. Pity it can be seen and not heard, but the verses have a similar tune to Brooke Fraser's May ...
-
'Chapter The First', Writ I
I was looking for something in my room once. It was truly the room of an artist, cluttered with dirty and clean clothes, and old school books buried in boxes ...