she warily rises
from her seat
as he is
adhered to his
and their words
are loud and
unspoken, their rhythm
unbroken, a tide
rolling forward, fingers
spread as neatly
as frothing waves,
receding at each
inhale, quivering between
exchanges, alternating between
panic as piercing
as radio static
and assurance as
warm and still
as her lips-
they still lack
the words he
wants to hear,
and attack each
movement he makes
towards her shore.
A contest entry
- It's Impossible by magdelene.
1000 points, ended January 9, 2008, 15 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Very Good
I really enjoyed this. I love the imagery and the beat. As well as the fact that the lines were short and sweet but had so much meaning. Well Executed!
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