Tuesday, November 08, 2005

Freeeeeeeeewrite.

All this time
too much to hold
it overflows into my hands
and so I fold
(It is a pity that
I'm a blind)-
little girl with this
sightless, spotless mind
I count the clicks
of metronome
that mark the moments
till I'm home

and this,
our brilliant escapade
has left me-
silent, silent
shadows of that old charade
have left me silent
silent

I stare out as the buzz flies fast
and wonder if
I'm no more than those thoughts
of seconds passed
Bread and butter is my soul
crumbling like pieces into the bowl of
chicken soup
makes all things well
but can it cure the tempest and the swell
of

this, our brilliant escapade
has left me-
silent, silent
shadows of that old charade
have left me silent
silent

2 Comments:

At November 08, 2005 7:54 PM, Blogger Andy said...

Hmm interesting poem, the semi-sporadic rhyming gives it a cool flavor. It sounds sort of chaotic, whether you meant it or not. Nice subtle reference to your previous poem about being blind on lines 5-8. What exactly is it you're waiting for in the poem? Summer, Stuebie, or just the rest of your life?

 
At November 08, 2005 8:02 PM, Blogger Erin said...

Thanks, I'm glad you noticed the reference. I'm waiting on the Lord. Can't explain it much further than that, but I'm waiting on something very... important.

Look over the way the line breaks and punctuation are written, especially in the first 6 lines or so.

There's so much to this poem, I wish I didn't have to explain it. But I suppose poets are never fully understood in their writing, lol.

 

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