Why are you here,
huddled
in the archives?
The musty scents
must bother you
since the fans
no longer
drag
new breezes in.
in and out.
No.
of her I see only shadows,
or
footsteps (softly),
where she might have been.
She beat me
with her whips
and stole what little I had.
Would you deceive me too?
Or,
would you misdirect me in this maze,
that is,
if you were Love
and spoke to me.
Author notes
Written August 2nd, 2003
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no.
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All love does is misdirect and mislead. It covers your eyes and steers you, whispering "Trust" in your ear. The trouble is that after being mauled so many times by that lizard tongue, it is hard to obey that whisper. So shaking hands lift a glass of whiskey and ponder the possibilities of "what if". Yeah, I like it.
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Shades of Phil Larkin in style and compositional content.
Paul -
I think this is my favorite poem of yours so far... this is brilliant, this is poetry.
~ Wendy -
I really liked this one Lute - your message is crystal clear, poetically conveyed...
"The musty scents
must bother you
since the fans
no longer
drag
new breezes in"
The execution of this train of thought was done well - A memory residing in your stagnant heart...
And then the end, where you find yourself faced with a new opportunity, new hope, but still find yourself bound by memories of old.
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Good question...I hear it echo in my own archive... ~~~Val
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