Written May 15th
A vagabond existence,
she is an enigma to herself.
Those around her
claim to know her.
A thesaurus of descriptions
float through the air around her,
surround her.
To them that is her!
If anyone would ask her,
but they never do,
does she agree?
Is she innocent and sweet?
Evil and mean?
She’d say
“Delve deep.
No one has mined me.
No one,
not even me,
could bare the truth.
Turn away,
let me leave.”
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2 comments:
Dear Romancewriter,
i am not a believer in offhand comments. My laze and ennui permit only a deep look into certain words and then memory takes over...
I love the thesauraus of descriptions and of all the poems i have seen from you this one will rule the .. let's say shelf for me.
the ending is absolutely beautiful... it reminds me of places where meaning and composition meet for a last kiss.
and yuour page .. the layout and the colours are ...for reasons all too personal too dear to me.
the poem '' aged '' with its candle lit reference to the memory and its fade and flicker is another beautiful piece.
it has an airy staircase somewhere in its within... and on the last step it changes to something so beautiful .. with the phrase '' past its prime '' ..i read it many times over.
keep writing your poems... i am sure they are the bringers of exquisite distractions..
You are really sweet to leave such a detailed review.
I decided there was no use in writing poems that sit on my computer, unseen. So, even though I wrote them to only please myself, I am thrilled if anyone finds something in them they can relate to.
Sara
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