Apr 2012
A pitch black blanket of unwound strands
Lays splayed before broken words in impotent rage
Breathing ragged against a winter window
Mirrors outlined in dark silk mock all they reflect
And tell no truths in their unwashed humor
But smile like cats eyes at the moon
A four chambered cavern sits sealed in frozen stone
With faded cave paintings raving in the dark
Hinting at old fires that burned
Simmering thinly and frail beneath a calm front
A snap on the edge of the cusp is only a
Sudden strike away and expecting the spark
So the frail crescent scratched in sand fails its promise
And gives away all it said it stood for
In the name of some sad joke
Lays splayed before broken words in impotent rage
Breathing ragged against a winter window
Mirrors outlined in dark silk mock all they reflect
And tell no truths in their unwashed humor
But smile like cats eyes at the moon
A four chambered cavern sits sealed in frozen stone
With faded cave paintings raving in the dark
Hinting at old fires that burned
Simmering thinly and frail beneath a calm front
A snap on the edge of the cusp is only a
Sudden strike away and expecting the spark
So the frail crescent scratched in sand fails its promise
And gives away all it said it stood for
In the name of some sad joke
This poem's evolved a lot. kind of a very early experiment in objective correlative for me so it might seem opaque in meaning. while it's very open to interpretation, and I welcome those, for me it's really just describing or creating an impression of a girl I briefly knew back in the day. We were never close but she did leave a deep imprint at the time. Each stanza is supposed to describe a feature of hers while together summing up what I concluded, right or wrongly, about her character and mindset. In
corresponding order, I hope people might picture her hair, eyes, heart, mind, and smile with each new stanza. The reader can judge how successful I was, though the possible need for this explanation may be a bad indicator
corresponding order, I hope people might picture her hair, eyes, heart, mind, and smile with each new stanza. The reader can judge how successful I was, though the possible need for this explanation may be a bad indicator
(34/M/NYC)
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