Open Poetry #46 |
When Diamonds Are Forever (a repost) |
icebox Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383in the shadows |
The sky is pink this dawn, a fitting start I think, too realized, the very air we breathe will batter it to blue in just a few degrees, maybe this color is diluted from startled threads of ache still flashing red reflected from deep inside my brain, as if raw color by itself is trying to explode my head; when I was young I used to think I mattered in the world, and would look for portents, omens, any day's predictors scattered at each dawn like reading tea leaves for tomorrow or puzzling over entrails drawn out from a day gone by, a day I may have sacrificed to stand upon its bones to reach the sky, or at least to grasp the fetal edge of yet another day. No more do I share prophecies, except as party tricks and as guidance for fools who think it helps if they die rich; I squandered energy the way the sun consumes itself, the way I redistributed wealth in my own private sort of class war never realizing there would come a time when I would have not more than all I have. Today is Saint Valentine's festival of foolishness. Valentine the pagan, Valentine the pederast, Valentine the twisted monk drawing imagery in sacred texts that almost had him burned alive, and today we carve it into candy as we strive to weave seduction into one of pride's little acquisitions, little murders of the soul; Valentine, I am so glad your stylized heart doesn't look like mine, I've seen the images in stone carved by hands long turned to dust before you were compelled by holy orders to adjust the meaning of your scratches and atone for your own petty soft abominations. You must have lived more than once, and needed time beyond one life, to resolve agonies of soul that plagued your thoughts and left us with this very strange holiday of sorts and fantasies that supports candy stores and jewelers, and caves where Hallmark cards are sold like dispensations to hopeful masses wishing for redemption, for living in a world where skies can turn to blue. ©2008, 2010 by icebox |
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Bill Charles Member Patricius
since 2000-07-11
Posts 10619highways, & byways, for now |
icebox - I'm glad you re-posted this, as I believe it's the first time I've seen it. A pleasure to read your words... BC |
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threadbear Senior Member
since 2008-07-10
Posts 817Indy |
Beautiful stylized poetry, love can sometimes be the blue ice that is a pleasure to see but too cold to touch |
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Elizabeth Santos Member Rara Avis
since 1999-11-08
Posts 9269Pennsylvania |
This is one that must be read over and over I tried to choose a favorite line but there were too many, but this is one: "to grasp the fetal edge of yet another day" Very very fine writing, dear poet Very fine, indeed Liz |
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