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The years write us (Free verse) by kawakurdi

The years write us The days read us How strange! Each time we are a different text Green, immature, spoiled, grown-up, grey, lacking melody We are erased by rubber and Tippex We are crossed out with the letter X Lines on lines are rubbed out What has been left is deformed What was original has only a trace What was a favourite has broken rhymes We are only a palimpsest of our own times How strange, love! The years write us Without permission, without mutual opportunity The days read us like broken lines Neither do I recognise myself Nor before-ten-years you I recognise neither the moon of your face Nor the stars of your looks Neither the melody of the heart Nor the drum of the road I look at my portrait, I look at your picture Is it change, catacomb, or a song of nostalgia? I hear a remote echo I call it. It does not recognise and respond. What a fate to become a stranger to you What a journey to leave yourself behind?

Dovina 19-Dec-04/11:37 AM
Very good. Take another look at a few lines:
without mutual opportunity
Nor before-ten-years you - commas
Nor the stars of your looks - "looks" is too plain.
catacomb - catacomb mask




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