Underground
Beneath my temple
Manipulating smoke
To my will
A faint smell
Of ash lingers
In the air
Decorations
Layer my palace
Underneath
My glory
A goddess of the dark
But nothing is
As beautiful
As my smoke
Creation and
As it transforms
I relinquish my
leash on it
And it escapes
Into the dusk
And a discoloured
bruise forms
Reminding me
Of how much
It hurts
To let something
...go...
Author notes
word bank B
A contest entry
- Sick or Pretty by sweetpearl.
750 points, ended March 2, 2007, 18 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
How much it hurts to let something go.
When someone takes something precious away from you, all you have to do is accept it. It's easy to accept things. When you let that precious thing go yourself, you don't just need to accept, but also adapt, and that is what makes it so hard to stop the metaphorical bleeding.
Worse than that, though, is the terminal anguish of being forced to make that choice by the inevitable nature of the universe.
I've got a feeling that this year will be the hardest yet. Still, something's gotta change, right?
-
I liked the format ... keeping the lines short I find is a hard thing to do but you pulled it off well. I can almost smell this:
"A faint smell
Of ash lingers
In the air"
I also like the picture this creates talking about smoke:
"I relinquish my
leash on it
And it escapes
Into the dusk"
A great piece, thanks for entering.
-
Your words form a journey down the page, a journey filled with the pangs of release. One has to ask did you love your creation or was it just a matter of time before it sought other places to haunt? Very well done you get the feeling of maybe being in a mosaleum(sp) and that what you finally released was your life force. Perfect!
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