Mask the light!
The waves are coming.
Hurry-we have got to move-the moon
will not wait for us to consider his face.
Take heart in your color, let your chroma spill forth,
and, in its turn, distill what lines may exist on the tongue
of your violin.
Do not seek her eyes and do not seek his eyes.
See for yourself.
See yourself!
My brother! Dear sister,
let the texture of the windowsill capture
your rustic heart. Let it take you back
to when your lips had taken the shape of a rose,
to when, through the window, the city-
despite its secret horror, despite its silent indifference-
had shown in unforeseen glory. Remember!
sister, when the streetlights became halos.
Brother, when the children of the alleys became angles.
Hurry! Before the night is undressed!
Let your softness be made known to the boy
who plays with bottlecaps on the sidewalks.
Don't wait for the sun or wait for tomorrow.
The sunset will help you. Your canvas is lit.
Let your eyes be crayons so that our love,
our calligraphy escapes this camouflage of blood.
A contest entry
- 24 hr contest or at my discretion by Celticmoon.
300 points, ended May 19, 2007, 13 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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96
It's an interesting read...it does seem to have a quality that can be interpreted in so many different ways. -
I might venture to say that this piece may be difficult for some readers to grasp; however it is also one of those pieces in which a variety of meanings can be sought out from your words. Both aspects of this poem being seen as such can have its good points and bad points, but that doesn't mena they are right or wrong as there truly is no right or wrong when interpreting a poem. Thanks for entering and good luck!
Blessings
Bel
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