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Open Poetry #47
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A Beautiful Disaster
Member
since 2007-01-13
Posts 409


0 posted 2011-09-25 02:26 PM


Blank papers of bitter today
Do treasure the words white on white;
If they are forbidden to say,
Then my privilege is to write.

I choke on the poison I've drunk,
The root of my love is in grief;
I'm learning the foreigners' tongue
To perpetuate my belief.

The strength of my weakness denies
The myth only half proven true;
The lines that I can't recognize
One day were composed by you.

The sequel could come to an end,
But sanity claims it's too late,
I take all the pain to defend
The worlds my illusions create.

© Copyright 2011 April A. - All Rights Reserved
JerryPat2
Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975
South Louisiana
1 posted 2011-09-25 02:46 PM


Whoa!

This is like a jigsaw puzzle, and a very intricate and special one at that. You give us lines that tease us on to the next line, and there you mischievously steer us into a new direction as we chase the words back unto themselves.

~~ Those who are silent are the first to be shot. ~~

Michael
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-13
Posts 7666
California
2 posted 2011-09-25 02:50 PM


Wow, intriguing as it is beautiful.  Your words flow elegantly.  A pleasure to read.

Michael

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