floating

I had the perfect beginning to this poem,
apparently left it hanging somewhere in the empty room
of my forgetfulness
and now all i have are these strange fingers that
disappear
into the fog, the edge of my world
is worn out
like springs on a bed,
the shape of the sleeper, the lover
and the dreamer, impressions on a
mattress
torn, stained and frayed

but words are shadows of the speaker
and dreams are beginnings of new poems,
and I,
like Cleopatra floating blissfully
on her barge,
know not of the asp in the basket,
waiting
and if I die for love,
for country, for nothing.

— Kailashana, Sep 20, 2009

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Nordic cloud

16 years 8 months ago

Oh I can relate to this one

Oh I can relate to this one dear Anna, dear sister in the crime of writing. IF I don't wrtie it down immendiately then it is as good as misty vapours, it evaporates, only perhaps, perhaps- well we would like to think so - it will comeback in another form, but then it IS another form and has changed even if only slightly, not recognisable as that liitle thought you once had that seems to get better and better the more one thinks of it until exhausted, you let it go. N'est pas? "but words are shadows of the speaker " This bit reminded me of this:- Butterfly, these words from my brush are not flowers, only their shadows..........................Soseki I loved this poem as i seem to love all your creations dear Anna Love and understanding from Ann of Norway

lyz

16 years 8 months ago

Dear Kailashana

This is a very nice, forgotten beginning of poem, poem,lol. Worked out just right. I enjoyed it. The whole last paragraph is awseome. Well done. Love Lyz. XX

rockinout87

16 years 8 months ago

oh my goodness, i can

oh my goodness, i can definitely understand the forgetfullness. if i don't write something down right away, it'll float around my head, invisible to me, and it'll drive me crazy. so anyway, very amazing writing, and i loved every line :)