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IndigoEve
Member

since 2003-01-10

Posts 279
Etched in the illusion of time

0 posted 2004-03-05 04:24 PM

**This is a characterization poem I did for my short story's main girl

I cry for thee, transfix-ed one.
Where the lilies bend and your sorrows grow, can you not see it,
gazing lancetly from unpieced by unpieced shard of glass?
Oh, breathe steadily, enrapt by your own countenance,
sharpened ecstasies ladled by narcissia
fragmented silver and golden loom
breathe a shallow hymn!

Flushed with fever at the noonday slivers of sun, slanting
in a museful deliverance unto your outstretched hands,
combing methodically through a sheet of liquid silk,
stained mahogany with flagrant sin,
your eyes darken
enviously
that any other should conceive a hue such as this,
carved from Eden's cypress trees.

Vacancy is a poignant shadow that draws around
you now.
I cry for thee, my curs-ed one.

Soul bound, untied from existence,
infinince traced beauty with an ageless finger,
and you were healed of mortality's affliction, staring
languidly into reflections of an unknown world.

In a rush of vainglory, you delight;
for what could be more exquisite than this ashen pride,
fragily claimed 'pon a ravished face?
Immortal elegance does not betray human veins, in which
flows a torrid blood,
until the flaws of pristine skin, unweave
an obsession vast.

Mysterious lust for the imbalance he causes in your
meticulous daydreams, akin to a certain glory replaced,
is undoubtedly fatal.
Left behind, your vigil of conceit..
what is so enticing, as he feeds you, hunger
that you must breathe your precious song to us,
no more, no ever so fated
...more?

I cry for thee, poor tainted one.
Oh, my fair Amiè Delicâte!

If I were to touch you, would you bleed a velvet river, running miracles through the sodden ground? --Moi

Grover
Senior Member

since 2004-01-27

Posts 1967
London, ON, Canada