- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Stolen Light
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at the full moon
as it rose in the red smog
to watch over the skeleton
of a factory abandoned
long before her birth.
She wanted to pluck it
from the foul sky
and keep it in her pocket,
but moons are fickle mothers
who ebb into nonexistence and vanish
in the harsh light of day.
- COMMENTS
WillowedCabinalmost 13 years agothe penultimate stanza wouldn't do better split between S3 and S5 or rearranging so that the 'fickle mothers' bit could stand alone. The fickle mothers line is too important and needs to be clearly sounded--right now, it seems to be buried in the pocket.
Now that I've critiqued, I can gush:
Your poetry is a lot like Tibetan singing bowls. Every stanza chimes and reverberates, a snowball effect as the eye travels, making a multicolored, harmonic picture. Very compelling.
