Free verse № 49374
may 18
You seem
so tired.
squeaking, like a mouse, a floorboard,
or a surprise.
Your regretful head bowed
and fragrant
with fear, invisible.
the silver nimbus of scissors rummaged
from the chipped kitchen cupboard,
held up with thin fingers.
"It's time for a change", you say,
sonorous and famed
illusions falling in fire-engine braids,
clipped
free
from decadence.
Beyond the bug-proof mesh,
a throaty hail of dawn
draws you out,
damp-eyed and frail
to the yard's simple square.
pink toes lap the loomed grass and dew,
one arm cross your brow,
blinking a challenge
to the blue
sunlight, wrapped
in gauze like brilliance.
And when next you lean
against the fridge,
you'll pause in wonder at the records
of someone young, and drunk.
you sneered like a punk,
lived fast,
eyes smudged, in ripped fishnets
and nose ring.
Never meant to last,
and that's the whole thing.
16 comments
I hope someone out there will get it, but dammit it's my own fault for being so damn obscure sometimes. I've already edited this 4 times tonight, so come back later, I'll have cleared up a few mysteries I hope.
But in the meantime, I hope the words are enjoyable on their own, even if the larger meaning is encrypted. I'm trying to find an equilibrium. Some words I use for the beauty and cadence, and strange levels of meaning. Style/content... and even a bit of form,
Simple language rearranged into strange orders, juxtaposed with shards of an image, arranged and ordered. I read it aloud and try to feel the rhythm... the sound, the images... And someday I hope to succeed on all levels. Someday. ****
(Was that pretentious enough?
I wish I knew her reasoning too.
My am/fm in the truck doesn't work. Traditionally, Rock, Rap I've recently become hooked on jazz and my favorite classical piece thus far is The 1812 Overature by Tchaikovsky and the New York Philharmonic.
But I seem to have The Crash test dummies on my mind lately. Gawd. Paki's right. I am a goof. It's good to be a goof. later.
Hmm.
You draw rather well by the way.
and rhyming fingers and nimbus is genius
well done
But do punks really sneer?
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