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Open Poetry #33
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Ambience for Noir
| Open Poetry #33 |
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Ambience for Noir |
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IndigoEve Member
since 2003-01-10
Posts 279Etched in the illusion of time 
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To my brother ~toujours .::. Nostalgia is more disease than feeling... after all, you cannot cure the past. There are words on pages, and pages of confessions make the scandal deliriously pour down our backs. She tore your sins along neatly perforated lines touching off a simplicity that a mere voice can create, like a memory, dried and aching. I watched from the window. Remembered. I spent twenty eight hours of my life in hell for you. For this! Causticity carves contemplative prayers. To bring a blasphemy into the world. Like the thinnest paper cut, along your hand's natural horizon slants. They send shocking color through the pulsing temple sounds. Put my fingers to your forehead. Hushhh, please. Our eyes are down. She'll never love you, I whispered into the flaking air. Never love your vanity, the iniquity. ~ It has been one dissected century since a feather quill burnt us, the race of veins along a paling comparison of sensibility Sense and tenuous oxymoron: There is handwriting beneath your skin. My script forged its chinese curvatures a deadly delicacy, shut between fraying, yellowed pages. She strokes the spine violently, before turning away, blind. ~ Illusion hung in that summer air like the swollen vines do with tomorrow's wine. We are aged by a season, as I held your photograph between my bleeding fingers. When confessions burgeon such recompense, for the truths we never lied. If I were to touch you, would you bleed a velvet river, running miracles through the sodden ground? --Moi |
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| © Copyright 2004 Imbued - All Rights Reserved | |||
Greeneyes  
since 2000-09-09
Posts 9903In Your Poetic Mind |
I am speechless each and everytime I read you wishing I had words, any words to do this justice...amazed at the talent that unfolds! ~~*~~ |
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Aenimal Member Rara Avis
since 2002-11-18
Posts 7350the ass-end of space |
such amazing and raw talent, never stop writing |
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Alicia Member
since 2002-03-22
Posts 279 |
i could dissect this into a thousand bitty poems, nearly every line one in themselves. will surely be reread for further discovery and comprehension but had to comment on your wording and gosh, i found myself so in love with so many of the lines that i could hardly wait to uncover the next and so would skip ahead and come back. (does none of this make sense?) - |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Indigo Amazing outpouring, emotional and difficult to reply to with the right words.  |
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Dark Angel Member Patricius
since 1999-08-04
Posts 10095 |
WOW yes.... pleaseeeee never stop writing. I echo all of the above and I thank Raph for directing me here.  cuz fate is not just whose cooking smells good but which way the wind blows ~ani difranco~ |
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Midnitesun
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647Gaia |
"Nostalgia is more disease than feeling... after all, you cannot cure the past." Absorbing this one. So much to hold onto, within each drop of ink. |
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Earth Angel Member Empyrean
since 2002-08-27
Posts 40215Realms of Light |
Man, can you ever write!!! Love & Light, EA |
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wranx Member Elite
since 2002-06-07
Posts 3689Moved from a shack to a barn |
Nice, very nice indeed! |
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Mysteria
since 2001-03-07
Posts 18328British Columbia, Canada |
Poetic perfection, and can't pick a line or I would be posting your entire poem, beautiful! |
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babygirlwlove Senior Member
since 2004-10-10
Posts 1180New York City |
Indigo Eve... I think I felt every breath behind every syllable in this...truly an outstanding poem from a technical perspective...and a deeply stirring poem, from an emotional perspective..as we watch you bleed onto the page. **babygirL** |
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Marge Tindal
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384Florida's Foreverly Shores |
IndigoEve~ 'She tore your sins along neatly perforated lines touching off a simplicity that a mere voice can create, like a memory, dried and aching. I watched from the window.' THIS is some mighty fine penning, dear poetess~ You've talent GALORE ! *Huglets* ~*Marge*~ ~*When the heart grieves over what it has lost, |
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