Where as yet to begin,
Here at the end
Though first I noticed them
In my dreams
Dancing.
Their tunics stained from too much life,
Their scars hidden by their bright eyes
And all too easy lies
In each soiled angel
That I see
A separate madness burns,
Above apart denied
When she turns
Raising the shield
That hides those glancing eyes.
Shaped to be held
The empty vessel seeking fluids
How was it
That they called it love,
Sweet flowers that bite and devour?
Soiled angels
wet Red lips wet
Tunics stained with knowledge and desire
Appear and depart in the fire
That burns to keep the cold away,
These days.
So, How does it end where it all begins?
The soiled angels watch with disinterest as I place my spectacles
Upon my nose
And pick up my pen,
Running my fingers through my sparse hair
Remembering them
Dancing in my dreams.
Author notes
Written July 27th, 2003
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1 - 23 of 23
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I only clicked with this just after half way through but when i did it transformed the whole write and i had to re-read the first half again. I took this poem in my own way, I saw it as the contrast between innocence and adulthood, sexual awakening with the clash of love ideals with bodily urges. It really paints a strong feeling of opposition and begrudged reconciliation.
I especially enjoyed the lines,
"Shaped to be held"
as these four words said so much and associated much feeling, and
"That they called it love,
Sweet flowers that bite and devour?"
as this image sums up the poem for me. Whatever meaning was meant for it when it was written I am glad to have found it as I have and taken away a very stimulating and thought feeding write.
Thankyou. -
beautiful imagery, it is so vivid! i love the imagery, this poem is so deep, and just beautiful it is wonderful!
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Great poem. Your use of bionary opposition is outstanding. Your title is the first clue as to the binary opposition that is laced throughout your poem. Soiled/Angels-direct opposites. The imagery abounds as the reader can actually see the soiled angels as you write. Peace be with you.
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i like the unique flow
i espically love this line
These days.
So, How does it end where it all begins?
The soiled angels watch with disinterest as I place my spectacles
Upon my nose
And pick up my pen, -
Thanks for sharing this with us. This was a little different then I am use to but I still like it all the same. Good job. Darksideoflove.
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the form here was a bit difficult for me to follow but i do understand why you used it. thank you for sharing this thought provoking write with me today. hope2makeit
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i love this one and I am not done reading all of your potry yet but I will never get done you have so many BEAUTIFUL ones. lots of
and 
and my 
Edited on May 02, 8:16 because ''. -
Tainted by love, I walk towards Love - and purification
of desire for perfection - which I could never gain. For I am no angel, but I am called wo-man.
Myra -
I would like to print this in Volume III of the AP Journal, with your permission of course.
For now I'll bookmark it. Thanks.
Jaden/Editor AP Journal. -
I always wanted spectacles, I have no idea why, I just like the look of them. Probably would never wear them, but, maybe I would.
This piece dances to a drum beat, an echoing drum beat in the vast distance of land or sea or both, and it creeps up on you slowly, but, for sure it is dancing all the while.
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ok, 2 a day of Lute is all my mind can handle...
I loved this, so many different ways that I want to read it, and I can't stop reading it lol (bookmarkingnow for further reads)
leaves me thinking... once again
How does it end where it all begins?
Gypsy -
Huh. This one irks me. Not sure why. Dirty angels, they lie, there is madness and dirty sheets (tunics), and an observer taking notes. Red lips and beauty mixed with shifty eyes and loneliness. Once pure now tainted, but is it them or the narrators view that makes it so.
This one's gonna fester...
I wish I could hate you for making me think so much. It's Monday for goodness sakes. -
almost like a commentator, a narrator or an ongoing serial, played out on a stage of sorts, and you the writer, sitting there, observing, watching how reality spoils perfection, how we change as we grow and experience love and hurt, and you continue to observe and make notations, always wishing they had remained pure. They were happy then. But now, the shields are up and the blood is spilt.. we have to protect ourselves. This is wonderful.
~ becky
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Beautiful
This was an Angelic piece that grabbed me~ I collect Angels~ Beautiful imagery my dear and Lute made Desire smile~ Thank you for sharing sweetie~ This was a beautiful write~ Big hugs and much love~ Desire -
I really did take this with me when I went
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Very nice indeed.
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"A separate madness burns,
Above apart denied
When she turns
Raising the shield
That hides those glancing eyes. "
i love that part...
touching poem, my throat feels tight
~ Wendy -
your voice shines here...amazing poem...their tunics stained from too much life...yet they watch with disinterest...as you try to grasp that which cannot be known.
Thank you, Maria -
ohhh la la
Most interesting, desire. Pink Floyd's The Wall keeps running through my head, yep those flowers. Nice work. Appreciated.
Keep Feelin' Fasciantion,
~Tiffany~ -
"Their tunics stained from too much life
Tunics stained with knowledge and desire
The soiled angels watch with disinterest "
Really different, poem sound good read, words flow so well together.
The soiled angels in dreams, delivery sweet bitter tastes of teasing knowledge in the night.
Your stuff is different, and adventurous, I like that. -
alright..... this one got to me..... hope you don't mind... I'm printing this one...
signed
crazy as a loon -
Theres such a good flow to this poem, with a slightly detached abstract theme in the background too. Almost like a number of fractured thoughts stitched together to give the reader a broad image in their mind as they read, but not paint the picture completely. I really liked this and it is the first of yours i have read.
Lisa x -
Yes...yes...soiled angels . Your description here...very good. ~~~Val
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