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Elegy

Shadow of a woman outlined
in a time not your own,
a halo of joy traces you
in men’s yesterdays.
Crystal skeleton,
transparency of bones gnawed by years.
Musings in other’s memories,
requiem of resonant tone
borrowed by spirits flown to oblivion.
Debris hurtling down a shuttle.

Weary of your body’s barren husk,
you wander bleak pathways, seeker of solace.
Shadowy spheres unfurl into rainbows,
cascades of colored raindrops
intone a dirge over your corpse.
I pick up bones from eerie earth,
rebuild you, hold you to my heart
in a mantle of myrrh.
Kneeling by secluded seas,
I pledge you to wind and salt,
where wraiths transmute
into pearls of infinite worth.

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Comments

how do I phrase this best? Well, your poem is extremely well written, but it throws me, for the greater part, for the proverbial loop. Is it an example of abstract poetry? It seems to have a purely aural quality rather than specific meanings. Sure, I could applaud you, but I wouldn't be honest to you or myself. I nearly wish you would tell me flat-out: "Jerry, don't be dense; put your bottle away." I know, my failure to comprehend this poem will haunt me all day. Oh, never mind! The few drops of rain we had during the night must have shortened out my brain's electrons and neutrons. Be well, dear.
Jerry

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>Please visit my website: www.jerrykspoetry.com

Dear Jerry, it's not abstract poetry, but I understand your confusion. Sorry about that. I'm not sure I can explain it, but it's probably easier for women to "get"...hope so!
There's lots in the poem, like memories, aging, discrimination, etc., but with a happier finale, although the woman is already dead. Sound weird? You're right. Thanks for visiting and for being honest.
I'm partly inspired by Jorge Luis Borges.
All the best with the rainfall, you must need it where you live. Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

Braava there is not one error in this poem and I would not think of changing any words
this touched something deep within me
It is just pure beauty

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Thank you so much, lynn. I thought women would understand it better than men, but not strictly speaking. I'm glad it touched you, poetry should do that, IMHO. You're most kind with your comments.
All the best, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

gracy, you are truly one of my favourite (poetess) it's so funny that today I was at a truscan burial site, where chariots brought the dead and laid them to rest, in what only can be described as theatre, You are truly a pen that speaks my friend, they say that truscan women were stronger than the men. Your poem speaks to all women and so powerful too. Thank you. Of all my new memories of today, this is one too. Breathtaking poetry, with so much depth.

Thank you...Teddy

Dear Teddy, interesting about the Truscan burial sites. Yes, it's theatre, most haunting, in a way.
I see that women emphasize with what I've written. I'm glad about that and expected it. You and lynn have gladenned me, if that's correct. Nowadays, I don't write or speak English as much as before, keep making mistakes.
All the best, I hope Italy is getting over the covid spell. Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment
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