I feel your body
Expanding next to mine,
Curdled into sleep.
By inevitable stillness.
Secluded in your hopes,
Yours is the certainty of blindness –
Mine the despondency
Of broken masts,
Stranded in windless blue.
As an eyelash disentangles itself
From the weave of your dreams,
I taste its resting place:
My surrogate goodbye.
A melancholy piece, Vic, which emphasises the gulf between us all. Subtly written.
Is it not strange that the idea when it first came to me was of a father and child, yet once penned I think it could just as easily be about two lovers. Thank you, Chris.
The eyelash line is pure gold
I feel that the poem revolved around that line. It was the strongest image the verse was pulling me towards as I wrote. Thank you, Richard.
Welcome, Vic 🙂
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Gorgeous dear… beautiful imagery.
Thank you, Belinda: our conversation appears to have taken a turn for the thematic 🙂
Feeling thick on a Monday morning…is that good or bad? 😛
I only meant that we were discussing how poetry lends itself to description and vice versa earlier, and now we were once again returning to imagery: hence our conversation being thematic 🙂
Cool! Just living up to my moniker me thinks must be the weather –
I imagine imagery is the epitome of the trade? It is all about images yeah 😉
We paint with words, certainly 🙂
Indeedy doodoody 😀
Haha! Quite. I hope you’re having a great start to the week. I am toiling over a few passages that are proving far more troublesome than I believed they could manage. Oh well… 🙂
Bless you… those troublesome words and their pesky quirks 😉
You too babe – got a crazy week ahead so trying to pluck the courage up to suck it up and get on with it ey! (moving house – joy… )
Hope the write goes a bit smoother ASAP!!
I hope so too! And best of luck to you as well 😀
Ta much MA’am Vic.
We best get on then ey – laters babe.