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The Struggling Poet's Lament (Free verse) by Ranger

So beautiful, that baffled moon Who watched my gentle hands - quiet In low-lit room move, exploring Soft sweeps across such pale skin Your body bared in honesty Smooth lines shown - all unashamed Then deftly flowed red silken dress Volcano ripple in reverse Extravagance shone, golden-trimmed To cover over canvas frame Slip on lace glove, then summer hat I line your eyes and brush your lips An idol of adultery I look again To notice threads which snake behind Like lazy flies, a drunken waltz A crooked hem, a button gone And in the heavy candle glow I stumble like the pregnant flame Wishing mine was Master craft The tailor's mind of genius For the seamstress cannot dress herself

Dovina 10-Feb-06/1:23 PM
So many images put together - seamstress, makup artist, lover - all with viewpoints and imaginations. But it works well. My sister is a seamstress, and she dresses herself.




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