Lisa's hand is upon the door,
clutching the brass knob,
I feel her fingers twine,
I fear the wind
will sigh.
She is always leaving,
but she is never gone.
Is this your heart
I hold in my hand?
The moments changed again,
whispering sand;
as the door shuts
scents hang in the air.
What is hello,
but goodbye?
Hello. I am very clumsy.
Author notes
Written February 19th, 2004
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1 - 19 of 19
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Interesting
Yes one never comes without the other so sad but true -
Liked the title as you try to keep that love/hate relationship at an even keel, without one taking over the other. Leaving, staying - not going, remaining? Juggling is tough to do.
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this is a butiful write that shows love even in confusion... well done with this
She is always leaving,
but she is never gone.
sounds like a forever in your heart love...
cheers
Jen
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good !
like
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good
This was such a unique poem.You've done a wonderful job expressing yourself. I loved the last line.Thanks for sharing.
Kari -
Hello. I am very clumsy.
This is such a clever ending for this piece. Surprising in its nature and a very pleasing asthetic. -
There were great sub-points in this but the main point was missed by me. I will read again and see if I can grasp it.
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Very compelling, lots of emotions that you can reach out and touch or cut through like a knife. Somehow sensual in the way you have described this moment.
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LOL oh boy between you two and nicolette and steve no one has a chance to ignore love chasing love on page.
NIce write. -
Beauty of a piece Lute and I did not write horror this time so no need to be away
You just keep on writing and evoking those emotions each time I read dammit
Another beauty~big hugs
and much love~Desire
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yes. can i be the vice president of the lisa fan club? i'll be pushing for this motto "in lisa's you can have both love and lust" despite what everyone else in the whole entire world believes..(i've always been a bit cutting edge, mr. lute it could start a revolution or drive the world to mass suicide i'm not sure). scent, my favorite sense for love poems. i love she is always leaving but never gone...yes. lovely. despite the black background...
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Unlike some of the other readers I am not familiar with your " Lisa " as of yet . But that made no difference as I read this .....somehow all seemed familiar , and I loved the way you were able to convey feelings that were left behind . As a matter of fact , they seemed to jump right off the page and grab the reader ,
Reenie
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well it juggled my brain lol..got nothing to do with my hangover.. I am clumsy too but people lurve me!
Lakota x -
Good good. Juggling is apt title.
The heart of this poem lies here:
The moments changed again,
whispering sand;
So I don't know if she was clumsy coming back or clumsy leaving for good. I do know the sands of time turn and turn again. And that shifting sand is always clumsy during the transition.
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I love the last lines of Worm's critique, on the work clumsy, and why it is beautiful.
My favorite lines however deals with the fact that even after she has walked away, she is still always just right their in front of you.
This poem lady clings to all the things that are right and wrong about you. Yes, I agree, we love her.
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"I fear the wind will sigh". Me, too, Lute. This is lovely but "clumsy" seems to deny the beauty oozing from the voice. Of course, I am missing something, some nuance of meaning and I apologize.
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aw that is just so lovely its the ending it just finishes it off so well and captures your hearty bits...
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beyondthemostexcellentest
Standing there in the breezeway in her nightshirt, at arms reach, but so distant and untouchable. All the words you begged her to say, would not fall from her lips.
Her cold eyes staring at the open door, waiting for you to give up or give in and walk out of her life.
Nevermind me just conjurred up some old memories of an old poem I once read.
This is a beauty Lutie. "She is always leaving,
but she is never gone." True.
Desiree
Edited on Feb 19, 5:56 p.m. because ''. -
This is how Romanticism came about, and it is nothing to be proud of. Or ashamed of, as you rightly say. I love your Lisa. In fact, a whole entourage of All-Poeteers have grown to love her (or lust, vicariously, which is not love, no, not love at all).
Clumsy is the clumsiest word. It's the last word we expect there, hence beautiful. Goodbyes are always clumsy, oh yes.
I think the Urwin will like this one.
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