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Click hereThey were the ones blending colours, sitting on sand.
They laid their memory across an unfolded map
and cut delicately, with a small blade
the pulp of their fingers.
Repeated at intervals and the blood drops livelier
within the watercolour dust, a mixture
somewhat magic, born of alchemy.
Three drops off the fourth cut turned the grey
into a minute pond of liquefied tin.
They were the ones pasting colour across spirals of skin
with the serenity of time, enveloped in words, in worlds.
They were the ones collecting coins of numerous
hues and countries, selling their bodies to extinction.
The sun broke through, between the horizon and the beach.
That was the instant when she reached for her pocket
and held a gleaming white scalpel. The day hesitated.
She traced a line across his left eyelid and they kissed
with moist lips of red saliva.
They were the ones who saw the frame was crumbling.
And as things fell apart
Nobody paid much attention.
From a review below:
"your poetry leaves me reeling with sharp images but hazy understanding. Hopefully I'll be able to pierce the fog..."
The poems aren't understood but still praised??????????
Isn't that a little odd? Are people frightened to say it's rubbish?
As a poet, you should know it takes more than a collection of words to make a good poem.
So many lovely lines. I particularly like -
"They were the ones pasting colour across spirals of skin
with the serenity of time, enveloped in words, in worlds.
They were the ones collecting coins of numerous
hues and countries, selling their bodies to extinction."
Should get ten - five has to do, rules say so. :-(
you pulled me into this place, this time, a beautiful voyage, through words, into your spectacular mind :)
~ liquified tin...~
I love the way that ( phrase) felt on my tongue, the whole poem, in fact, lovely work Lauren
your poetry leaves me reeling with sharp images but hazy understanding. Hopefully I'll be able to pierce the fog one day and enjoy the fullness of your meaning. You are a mistress of intrigue.