Neopoet

Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

Kailashana
Kailashana
Aug 23, 2009 ⭐ View statistics (Premium feature)

sphinx eyes

She surveys the widening sarcophagus of her room,
her memories outdistance her
her dreams lie in ambush
like a cricket's love song,
cold-blooded in the night

there is no poetry
not even a wild fern
grows this side of emptiness

she chooses the setting sun
in a sundown of melancholy,
words
that once streamed through her head.


— Kailashana, Aug 23, 2009

About This Poem

About the Author

More from this author

Critiques

Kailashana

Kailashana

16 years 9 months ago

Yes. In a larger sense it

Yes. In a larger sense it was about writer's block, in a smaller sense it was the distance between me and filling in the blanks. ;-) ~A "In peace sons bury fathers, but war violates the order of nature, and fathers bury sons." ~ Herodotus
Seren

Seren

16 years 9 months ago

Dear Anna

These lines struck a chord in me her memories outdistance her her dreams lie in ambush like a cricket’s love song, cold-blooded in the night Simple words of truth again and always ... Love and hugz Jayne x x "We did not change as we grew older; we just became more clearly ourselves. Lynn Hall" ...
Kailashana

Kailashana

16 years 9 months ago

Ha! Between you & Cassie (I

Ha! Between you & Cassie (I liked the ending) the whole poem is struck out. lol. ~A "In peace sons bury fathers, but war violates the order of nature, and fathers bury sons." ~ Herodotus
Nordic cloud

Nordic cloud

16 years 9 months ago

Egyptian Queens

Have you been in the temples of the Egyptian Queens felt the atmosphere is a presence, if you were lucky enough to be there alone? it is awesome, cold and dark as death. You have some of that here in your poem Anna Love Ann of Norway
hugo la rosa

hugo la rosa

16 years 9 months ago

Dear Anna

Even when you --as you said-- experienced a writer's block, the original intentions of your poem were stated in eerie, beautiful words. Poems are never finished, yours probably needs some reworking, as I frequently do with mine. Best Regards, Hugo