I knew you once;
you found me lost for breath and flailing -
reaching out a weathered hand
you burnt the ground under my feet,
and beat a path to drag me down with beckoning eyes,
To touch your fingertips,
and sneak a breath of reality,
where truths lie bare.
You tripped me forwards, over sharpened stone and debris
of the chosen passed before,
litter of enlightenment;
You'd like to call it insanity
in a dully somber world,
I'd rather call it peace.
The colours brewed along with you, a package deal;
See the light, and the spectrum fills the gaps.
A figure I reached for,
eyes closed, fingers grasping
deep inside kaleidescopes of externalities,
to twist and turn perception of a worthy cause.
You beckoned, took my hand,
and whispered me to jump,
I jumped, but not through fear;
for a certainty of falling to survive,
I dont think we ever hit the ground
Author notes
Not all that is seen can be touched, all that glitters is not gold.
very sorry for taking so long to get it in
lucy
xxx
A contest entry
- Teen Idol 7: Round 4 [Top 12] by Tangled Angle.
300 points, ended February 12, 2008, 12 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Wow! Gowd. I loved this write alot. This was such a wonderful write. amazing. Good job. i mean great job.
..<3..
Shelly :] -
Given the flow of the rest of th poem I think the line "You tripped me forwards, over sharpened stone and debris" should have been broken at the comma. Other than that I thought you had a lot of emotion in this. You weren't hiding it, which is something a lot of poets instinctually do, so well done on that.
Good luck. -
8.4
Very passionate and relatable. I felt every ounce of this---something that none of the other entries managed to do as well. Very well done.
I was going to deduct one point for being late...but I'll deduct only half a point.
Original score: 8.9
Score: 8.4
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The ending was well scribed. This piece stuck together nicely and the flow was beautiful, something very fluent and light headed.
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