An empty glass, sitting, barren,
A long, tall stem, see through haron.
Ice to the touch, glass folds and breaks,
mirrored futures, cold evening lakes.
Dip into the space, lost inbetween,
glazed into nowhere, cold hard sheen.
Filled with air, memories cull,
turning glass delicate from dull.
New year's eve, from day to day,
in the cabinet, here to stay.
Shards and cracks, break and thread,
glue won't hold, but it's never dead.
Still cold as a corpse, crumbs don't mean much,
part of your kitchen, cool to the touch.
A contest entry
- the suggestion box by grassisgreener.
600 points, ended March 10, 2008, 11 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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so this poem is about being overlooked. although i must admit i'm not a big fan of the rhyming/meter, the folds of imagery leave much up to the imagination and open for interpretation, which i like. i like the last line a lot. it's almost imbuing a sense of indifference, as if to say, if you don't see me, i won't lose my cool. overall good write thanks for entering!
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A profound write. To be honest, the meaning of it is over my head. I am not sure what you want the reader to get out of this. Sorry...I did enjoye the read, if that makes sense.
Kelli
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