| Open Poetry #47 |
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The echo of a whisper III |
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blankmirrors Junior Member
since 2010-07-16
Posts 14 |
T w i l i g h t On the shattered floor of the day We step barefoot Among the useless fragments of words: Fragile masks of our soul. * * * In the twilight of my hours Life seems a silent milk That leaves in my mouth nothing to say, Only the quiet weariness of a nipple That found its way home. * * * Newspapers are blown over our floors, Like a written cry, Fluttering between the fleeting and the final: The two faces of fear. * * * The interval between the words Transport my invisible tremble: The secret breath That lives and dies in my chest. |
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| © Copyright 2011 blankmirrors - All Rights Reserved | |||
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passing shadows Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577displaced |
pretty deep stuff well done |
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Lori Grosser Rhoden Member Patricius
since 2009-10-10
Posts 10202Fair to middlin' of nowhere |
Very well done indeed!. Looking forward to reading more of your work. Lori |
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OwlSA Member Rara Avis
since 2005-11-07
Posts 9347Durban, South Africa |
As with the other 2 of this suite of poems, very beautiful, sensitive and unique. Some interesting and effective concepts - the two faces of fear being the fleeting and the final; windblown newspapers being like a written cry; and the effect of the spaces between words - like the pauses between musical notes. Owl |
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steavenr Member Elite
since 2003-11-17
Posts 4058 |
"On the shattered floor of the day We step barefoot Among the useless fragments of words" imagery here is simply amazing...once again, nice work |
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