Wren, some very unusual images. I will see what I can do.
I'm back poem finished. Wren I took some liberty with the images, mainly to make most of them plural
but I had to change the "mossy smiles" image to fit the context of the poem
Young girls in floral sheen
spring down to the beach.
They laugh softly in the shine
with large blue eyes and chocolate smiles.
They dance and spin shouting merriment
and laughter tying rainbows in their hair,
and daisy chains upon their necks.
They called them angles, the old ones
did but what do they know of
the secret torments of youth.
The menstrual mutilation is the devil's curse
for their bad thoughts. They reeled in
lakes of blood as acrid and sweet as orange juice.
Once they awoke to scarlet soaked sheets
and trails of brutal passion, there had been an intruder
a midnight thief of innocence.
Now they are walking dead, no glimmer
in their vacant eyes. The joyless grey face pains
the elders to see them in a constant sulk.
They bear the anguish of violation secretly.
Girls with ill thoughts will have ill deeds visited upon them;
the twisted spirits breathed vile seeds,
They can not wash the sickness from their flesh.
The rain girls with grim ivy lips
keep their eyes hidden. The four stand against
howling overcast, even the wind is unrepentant
and the filth remains. "We walk with our eyes
fully opened. We are aware of your desires
your longing to penetrate our sweetness.
We know that any of you could have laid devil hands on us,
There no rest for us angels where all are guilty.
We died the night you stole our love.
We are no more, the virgin suicides,
Let us lie in the stillness of the sea."
With the final epitaph written their bodies descend
into the depths. One wonders what drove such
spirited girls into the frozen undercurrents.
A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it, bearing within him the image of a cathedral. Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
[This message has been edited by brian madden (edited 07-07-2000).]