she is heady
waiting for the dance beneath her lashes to end
she cradles a frame that is too small to bear pain
and will not, when she wills it, get up to walk away
Author notes
i thought short would be good.
Written July 19th, 2004
In a list
A contest entry
- Label Her. by space blanket.
300 points, ended July 30, 2004, 35 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 9 of 9
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I got something completely different from this poem than what your intended message probably was...
I'm epileptic, and "dance beneath her lashes" really hit the nail on the head for what it feels like right before I have a seizure, and this all just kind of fit together for my experiences.
It's good though, very good. I'm adding both of the poems you sent me to the list of possibilities. Thanks so much.
Elizabeth
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hey i love really short poems like this that tell it all.. this was really really great.. i love it all! u have an awesome write! well keep up the really good work! byebye!
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excellent
i believed it . . -
This is the kind of short poem that I like. It's direct and to the point, with a whole other world hidden beneath the lines. This was great, I loved the imagery here. Good luck in the contest.
Renae. -
Awesome write
Oh my. You say a lot in such few words. Now this is what poetry is about. I love short powerful poems and yours is exceptional -
comes from being so short mahself
thank you for the comment.
N... -
you're very right when you say "i thought short would be good" because in your case, it most certainly is. you have a knack for short things, i'm guessing by this piece. the third line is my favorite! i like how you kept it plain and simple on the outside, but the second time you read it it is definately more in depth than it seems. i like the background as well!!
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sometimes short says it all Nyx. Second line is a stunner.
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tears weave and sway in slow motion patterns across her cheeks, side by side, as she used to be with him, they slide to the edge of her cheek, then fall into her crossed arms below. lashes bat away the moisture of regret, and the world is a little clearer and a lot more lonely. and so she writes a short eulogy to what was, and is no more, blinks twice, and then rises to chase dreams across the white fields of her pillows, with only one dent come mourn,.....come morn...Artis
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