 |
Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+ |
Custom Search
|
|
|
||||
| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 12-June 06:56:52 AEST | ||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
Array
(
[sid] => 123592
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => What do Daisies Know of Hell?
[time] => 2006-07-23 15:22:27
[hometext] => The end of a relationship; disillusionment tinged with madness; yay!
[bodytext] => What do Daisies know of Hell? I’ll always be the skeleton in your closet The Minotaur, roaming the fevered labyrinth Of your psyche I’ll haunt the fleecy, foam-embellished shore Of your solemn, sunken isle – a weeping diamond in the feral dawn Bejewelled. Intangible as the delicate magic that shimmers and breathes Behind my television screen. Through an ice-edged lens, we exchange… A single glance You keenly exhibit the frozen smile Of a man who has forgotten how to cry Anything, to paint a new history Anything to forget. I’ll cram our dirty memories into a red velvet clutch-bag And stride indifferently from your side (Although I seem to have misplaced My legs…and… My soul.) Knocking aside the cobwebs, and the dust-riddled past I ignore the tangled shoals of stars, glistening behind your eyes Tears, faded as the newly risen dead You always were like television, to me Casting the world into sharp, sharp focus. Bringing life closer to my eyes – dragging it further from my soul “Oh, you occupied my time…” You live for dreams, and so you live not at all. Constructing shrines to the deity of soap opera My face, lost In the shadows of time Begone, my dear. Paradise beckons Heaven is no more than a trendy Parisian café (I’d never fit in…) And God – God is a pavement artist A long-haired student with nothing better to do. Plucking dreams from the air, drunk on the pungent wine of righteousness (We built ourselves a tyrant, and a shattered morgue to house the living) The perils of the future can so easily be ignored But there is no escape When the phantoms lie within. Your embrace is a taut gallows loop (Though it speaks of other things: Of magic-carpet clouds, tormenting a silver savannah sky, Swallow-tailed standards, wrinkling in the cool alabaster dizziness Of innocence.) And now, one last daisy blooms Twining itself (serpentine) about the frigid machine’s heart Inside my television Unfurling sweet and slow as syrup – a comb-fringed head rearing Colder than Empyrean Brighter than a sea of vacant celebrity smiles I’m lost, tangled, disparate… Shackled to your dreams And I can’t change The channel. [comments] => 4 [counter] => 207 [topic] => 22 [informant] => quell [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => LostLove )
|
Menu
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others
Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©
Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster
All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com
All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.
Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com