Open Poetry #13 |
The saddest puppet |
walker Member Elite
since 2001-02-11
Posts 2240Florida |
The saddest puppet, is the one with the tangle strings. He holds nothing and nothing can hold him. Manually he came to be, his beauty was great indeed. Colorful pieces of wood, held his strings in a crosslike pattern. He did good in the beginning. But as time pass, his strings interweaved with his laughter. A knot it all came to be, his hopes, his smiles, his dreams. The saddest puppet, is the one with the tangle strings. He holds nothing and nothing can hold him. He likes to pretend that he's okay. But the more he tried, the worse it became. His movements were awkward, no grace did he had. His crippled small body, held back its true gold. One day he decided, to cut all his strings, so that he can be as free as the wind. But when he cut them, he realized this, he lost his own battle and even his will. |
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© Copyright 2001 walker - All Rights Reserved | |||
Marge Tindal
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384Florida's Foreverly Shores |
Walker~ I was reminded of that song lyric, "I've got no strings to hold me up ..." Poor little puppet ! ~*Marge*~ ~*The pen of the poet never runs out of ink, as long as we breathe.*~ |
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JLR Senior Member
since 2001-02-04
Posts 1785 |
walker---my friend, you lost me on this one. Tangled strings better than none, maybe? |
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Interloper
since 2000-11-06
Posts 8369Deep in the heart |
Interesting. Live for love. Without love, you don't live. |
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Balladeer
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-05
Posts 25505Ft. Lauderdale, Fl USA |
I think this poem is rich in excellent metaphors...very well done, walker |
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Joyce Johnson
since 2001-03-10
Posts 9912Washington State |
Well done. Someone will come along and restring him, I'm sure. Joyce [This message has been edited by Joyce Johnson (edited 04-26-2001).] |
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Marge Tindal
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384Florida's Foreverly Shores |
BUMP Now how did that happen? |
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latin passion Senior Member
since 2001-04-26
Posts 576 |
I feel for the puppet, for he can be restrung, just like pearls are done. They glisten anew, as I hope you will too - and move about again. I enjoyed your poem. LP |
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