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Click hereYou offered to revolutionize my life
First came the banners and the flags
On our bed, then the tremors and the quakes
We were quite orderly at that stage
Then all night’s vigils of tearful debates
Grew into silent sittings, I thought
We were still quite ideological at this stage
Few more anti something left
And strong pro something else
Very far away, and you were turning
Colorful pillows around and
Folding sheets, last I saw you
Left an orderly made up bed
Large enough to cry on.
I hate revolutions.
It's startling when I read your poetry what a poet I'm not.
I apologize for my poetry. I'm embarrassed for myself. I only write it for the Survivor contest.
Your poems are always first class.
Very nicely done. I have been in relationships like the on pictured here and remember the empty, awful feeling when it ended. However later on after there was some distance from the relationship, it seemed what I should have been feeling was not emptyness, but relief.
Terseness becomes an effective tool when the visuals you offer provide this particular brand of emotional wallop. That bed can be most uncomfortable, indeed, when the mattress is worn and the 'bounce' is gone. Loved the read Y!
A true personal ‘story'. You saw right through the main conflict of the relations: namely the language of the communication. The evolution of the relations went along the use of the ongoing treatment of ‘big social causes’...the bounderies between the political and the personal were always very blurred...but where initially the excitement of mutual big causes was mixed with the beginning of the relations and each reinforced the other, later on the disparities both personal and on the big causes, lead to more and more strife...Still, the language remained mostly that of two young idealists ...Suddenly the break into the behaviors of packing, folding and separations leaving every thing in physical order but in a total emotional disarray lead to my final conclusion - still binding me, at least on the personal sphere.
What a painful and bitter pill to swallow! "An orderly made up bed/Large enough to cry on" - it's like a knife to the heart! One bleeds out on the tidy bed, giving evidence to the ugliness of the rift, and the disorder it has caused. But isn't that what often results from revolution? As usual, my friend, I am in awe!!