Array ( [sid] => 151917 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => a tender turning. . . [time] => 2009-08-01 23:25:50 [hometext] => [bodytext] => you've no time for me
you will not even notice
that I am gone
(no shadow)
until it's been a little while. . .
too late
you've really no time
to even hear me
say I'm lonely
(echoing all alone)
& yet "I'm lonely for you."
there. . .
I've said it one last time.

must we maneuver
under our devisiveness?
(twister)
must you colour me with bruises
from the inside out
cloud my mind
with your beckoning?
(wordless)
I will stay, awhile
inside my own head
it is not safer. . . just
(less)
familiar.
& now I'm cold. . .
trembling fiercely
with a lonely shiver.

still. . .
we can not ease much closer
without the night shifting
violent realignment
a star-scaped ledge of compulsion
(illuminated)
&. . . we
becoming less, our doing
& more, our being.
a tender
turning. . . you
a tender
turning. . . I [comments] => 5 [counter] => 209 [topic] => 22 [informant] => elle [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => LostLove ) Your Poetry Dot Com - a tender turning. . .


a tender turning. . .
Date: Saturday, 1st August 2009 @ 11:25:50 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: elle
you've no time for me
you will not even notice
that I am gone
(no shadow)
until it's been a little while. . .
too late
you've really no time
to even hear me
say I'm lonely
(echoing all alone)
& yet "I'm lonely for you."
there. . .
I've said it one last time.

must we maneuver
under our devisiveness?
(twister)
must you colour me with bruises
from the inside out
cloud my mind
with your beckoning?
(wordless)
I will stay, awhile
inside my own head
it is not safer. . . just
(less)
familiar.
& now I'm cold. . .
trembling fiercely
with a lonely shiver.

still. . .
we can not ease much closer
without the night shifting
violent realignment
a star-scaped ledge of compulsion
(illuminated)
&. . . we
becoming less, our doing
& more, our being.
a tender
turning. . . you
a tender
turning. . . I

This poem is Copyright © elle


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