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Kristen

Submitted by Esker on Fri, 2012-07-06 00:03

wore the colors of illusion
wove through the eye of a hurricane
you rode

iridescent green and blues
tapestries gathered
all by you

and the frost grew
and grew
the lake breath blew
against the star eye
of the evening traffic light
beneath the window
were you put out your
candles
praying for the signs

eventuality would arrive
and right thing up

like a button
like a hymn sewn up
the lip of an angel lost
in the scorn of the storm
beneath the magnitude
of might hard cast

each blink in the
harsh fresh toss
one more to the
ghosts whom lost

a cry in the night
for the dreams that cost

and the wires sang
their tired lament
on barren streets
a burden meant
for rests light sheen

all that and more

Editing stage: 
Editing - rough draft

Comments

Esker

Fri, 2012-07-06 00:05

Esker's picture

//// winter of once there and was ...///

author comment

Esker

Fri, 2012-07-06 00:29

Esker's picture

"of might hard cast
and tossed"

that was how it was supposed to be
originally my mind skips
maybe without it It sounds okay
I dont know...

author comment

Ian.T

Fri, 2012-07-06 03:20

Ian.T's picture
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This is a beautiful piece, I think that sometimes you lose your reader in a flurry of poetry, the short explain at the bottom in your comments made the read a lot easier, it gives us a key to unlock the theme and then enjoy the read, Yours Ian.T

.
There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

Esker

Fri, 2012-07-06 08:52

Esker's picture

not that its impossible to fathom
but who wants to spend their time trying to Unencrypt something
Poetry the old rhym stuff is meant to enjoy
a ride of words upon the mind and pallette of speech

sometimes its like a music box that needs the key to
wind it up and set it in motion in the mind

Thank You

author comment

Ian.T

Fri, 2012-07-06 18:46

Ian.T's picture
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If only we could hear the music that your words play as you pen them.
We could sing the songs of feelings that is a forgotten skill.
If only I could talk to the Elders, they would tell me their colour.
They could show me the passing of things from one state to the next.
I glimpse the cloth as it shrinks into the light as they fade within.
I bet that in your minds eye you can see them and in your listening,
you can hear their words, they talk as you do, in quiet tones....
Yours Ian.T

.
There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

Roscoe Lane

Sat, 2012-07-07 02:48

Roscoe Lane's picture

I like this poem very much, and could feel the anxiety in the thoughts as you wrote this. I have probably said this before if not i say it now, you have a very unique style of poetry that creates an illusion with words. But keeps the reader inside the reality of your thoughts. Please that you continue. Regards Roscoe..

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

BlueDemon77

Sat, 2012-07-07 18:08

BlueDemon77's picture

I always saw many of your works of the ilk that one doesn't hold in a hemisphere of the brain as an unterstanding. Instead it's a vortex of complex images one falls through headlong. Does that make it less effective....hell no. Few can do it. When I've read one of your poems, this one included, I know that something special has touched me. Great work once again.

Ron

Blue Demon77

Blue Demon77

"What I want is to be what I was before the knife,
before the brooch pin, before the salve, fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind."

The Eye Mote-Sylvia Plath

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