Image stirs inside of glass,
looking back,
as if a stranger seeking mime
to mirror's motion.
I am outlaw to my body,
in my shelter of shriveling skin,
eyes are always looking outward,
expressing earth as magic's brush
where every possibility is facet
to fit together in love's acceptance.
But in my self
of gathered word,
there is desert place to teach,
well as sacred, in stream to join,
line in confluence to what is unique.
There is difference to blend,
one world containing all,
finger not the same as toes,
or eyes as ears
to wander obscurity.
A contest entry
- Quickie Contest - 2 hours, 20 lines, 20 entries by Maatkara.
450 points, ended July 17, 2007, 11 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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This is moody and evocative, though a little abstract, but well done
I think I would have preferred an article in a few spots to smooth the syntax.
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"I am outlaw to my body,
in my shelter of shriveling skin,
eyes are always looking outward"
A profound penning, my Friend...It reminds me of one I wrote around 1982 with the line, "we are more than our bodies believe." Intriguing perceptions you have, dear Scribe...Good luck in Gennelle's contest, Sweetie...
Wanda
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