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Open Poetry #42

her pale polite

Tomer
Senior Member

since 2002-06-28

Posts 1168
Michigan

0 posted 2008-02-10 10:25 PM

The nights oeuvre,
You could see the pierced
bellow lights that
Careened off the back walls
Of the chateau’s slender build.

The shave of the door
That nested under its opaque ceiling,
Her shoulders waning towards the curtains,
Wondering if he stared like the piers
That dared their waters to stop the winds current.

The eyes that she saw,
The strangers that resembled
The tiles that sat all along her feet,
But still no sight,

A ripeness leaned over,
Her eyes filled the narrow halls
That traded their wallpaper for her thoughts,
Her pains, a woman scorn,

As the door felt her palm,
The creak is felt
Of her nothing, her lost skin.

TomMark
Member Elite

since 2007-07-27

Posts 2133
LA,CA

1 posted 2008-02-11 09:06 PM

Enjoyed the poem. esp
Her eyes filled the narrow halls
That traded their wallpaper for her thoughts, beautiful.
Tom

wordwizard
Member

since 2003-09-08

Posts 483
on the way to next world

2 posted 2008-02-11 10:34 PM

nice writing

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