Hello,


Can I have my peom corrected?!

Angel's Recital

Here, she was sitting alone
On the cold old bridge stone
That was the last time in which
My eyes had been falling on this wench
She was playing the same violin recital
When it blew, the wind unusual
Leaves of roses are butterflies
Around this angel it flies
Angel in a lovely white gown
A blonde long hair was of her own
You can’t see it anymore
It was just like a dove
Had its flight upon a roof
Holding the wheat grains, so never it lost
Now it was gone with the wind
And no more recitals were now heard
Only that what I had mentioned and told
The snow-whited angel was now sold
To heavens it changed its way and gone
But: still can see us and away it waves
You can reach me but just feel a shame
She is watching and warning outdoors
She is watching and warning
“HERE I am, Cannibals” she says
As nobody answers
“HERE I am, Cannibals” she still says
As nobody feels, even feelings
As then we can’t see
There was peace one day
There was peace
It had gone away leaving us
Tearing the threads of kindness between us
Throwing us away behind it
“I do not want to stay in here”
“They are of no human creatures”
“But they are cannibals, only cannibals they are”
Those of no human features were now awaken up
They searched for the sound of recitals
They searched for their peace angel
But lately they realized that
And knew about the bitter truth
That their angel had been lost
But: in reality it was gone . . . It was gone
And to get this angel home
To its cold old bridge stone
They decided to be completely changed
Helping others was their aim
And with orphans they began
They helped them everywhere
Cultivating happiness in their hearts
Drawing smiles on their faces
They helped them everywhere
They were just like a father and a mother
Sister and brother . . . an aunt and an uncle
They helped with their education
Their hygiene and sanitation
And they are still trying
Thinking and Musing
If this angel will return
But: nobody knows the answer
Nobody knows the reply
As I think we all know the answer
We all know the reply
It will be coming back just like a dove
To have its flight upon the roof
Holding the wheat grains, so never it lost
Here, she was sitting alone
On the cold old bridge stone
That was the last time in which
My eyes had been falling on this wench