the world is a dream
a snowglobe
of forever falling stars
around our shoulders
that singe the grass
like whispers
we live in perfection
nonexistent
to the loveless,
refuse to see
the world moving
so we can stay
in each others arms
a little bit longer...
what is truth
when we give up sunlight,
when we've been places
we only imagined
when violins
buy the sky
to play a single night for us
truth wallows in the dust
beneath a single glimpse
of love
A contest entry
- dance us to the end of love by Nicolette.
2500 points, ended November 5, 2008, 15 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - should you be on my favorites? by Melissa Gayle.
600 points, ended February 3, 24 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 9 of 9
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This is just absolutely lovely.
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"nonexistent
to the loveless,"
I liked those lines as they made me think of how love is indeed blind, or make us blind and all we can see is our loved one, or this love that binds and overwhelms us - and hey, that feels so very good! My favourite part of this poem was the last two stanzas - really lovely and with a delightful lingering quality about it.
I've enjoyed this poem and the sentiments and visuals you've created. Thank you for sharing it with us in the contest.
~ Nicolette
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gosh, stanza 5 is lovely.
helen~
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some good writing here...a bit influenced by your youth i would say, but good nonetheless.
thank you for this entry
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there is something divine in this, something i think only you can see.
stanza 5. i dont think anything more pure will ever be written.
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a still place to be together
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third stanza !!! well done, that!! ... last stanza, separated from the rest of the poem, signifying emphasis or summation or root of the poem's message ... dust: a remnant of things gone, not necessarily a negative image, for dust is a pure essence, it is the same texture as ash, pure essences left over after all else is consumed, and, I might add in my own arrogant way .. and, the first food of earth ... the word 'wallows' normally a negative word, but not here, not to me, for here wallows is the only thing possible for anything to do when upon something as pure and as insubstantial as 'dust' ... i, therefore, have this image of a glimmering thing trembling upon a light gray dust, to light to sink through, too heavy to float away ... truth never leaves does it? your poetry is becoming very interesting to me.
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i love this... there is just so much truth in it.
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wow..
i am totally shocked at how unbelieveably beautiful this is, and not at all cliche and i so fucking wish i could do that with love poems. its so hard :/
cudos to you
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