Open Poetry #24 |
Without Drought There Is No Pleasure In Rainfall |
the_jazzician Junior Member
since 2003-01-03
Posts 30 |
My eyes , they sting as if an insect has flown into them, become lost and try to dig its way out, they ache. but there is no insect , instead only emotions, bound to my soul, like a dog tied to a tree, wanting to get away, but knowing that if it escapes its master will be upset. Relentlessly tugged at, the rope soon gives way, leaving the dog free to run to the other end of the barren field to drink its water ; Like an ever-exercised muscle the emotions grow stronger , tugging , and eventually my rope breaks too, and just for a while I am no longer a dog- but a puppy and instead of fur, covered in a coat of temporary innocence as it runs to collect its water, panting. But reaching the bowl, it is dry, there was never any water . the desert that is my soul is dry, there has been rain but it fell far from me. And so, I wait at the bowl, my escape from the mental shackles of restraint was done in vain, for it is hot and my thirst remains unquenched. Seeing the liberated dog. the master is initially angered but then moved by my plight. The puppy is no longer tied up, I am left free to roam the fields, desperately awaiting rainfall to be sent from above, to fill my bowl. . . It will rain some day over me, and where it does the desert will become an ocean, with sweet water. Until then the salty tears I cry will crystalise on my cheek, waiting for her to gently wipe them away, and when she does, I will no longer be thirsty. |
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© Copyright 2003 johnny hungry - All Rights Reserved | |||
Kethry Member Rara Avis
since 2000-07-29
Posts 9082Victoria Australia |
jazzican, good analogy and well written. Kethry Here in the midst of my lonely abyss, a single joy I find...your presence in my mind. Unknown |
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