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Axilea MU

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_ _
by Axilea MU

Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Axilea MU
•  Simply-fire
•  In Transit
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           >> View all 270

(title was stolen)

Steal not
the intimacy:
flowers die in vain
in tasteless vases
they’re left, after the invasion
and theft
due to your Vanity.

Just shallow waters
and an ill-chosen yellow
for sand
watercolor passé
on a once miraculous desk
dry brushes with rust
love put to rest
the taste of failure
alluring test.

In the end, the charm was gone
knife scratched enamel
of expensive stainless smile, then
countless miles, centuries, sleepless nights,
storms and floods, even
no hocus-pocus drama
no deus ex machina
can cover the inconspicuous tragedy
that is due to your Vanity.

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Reviewed by Rafika Anderson (Reader) 5/6/2012
"Steal not the intimacy" absolutely captured my heart. Perfect opening line for a piece on trust and betrayal.
Reviewed by Amor Sabor 5/2/2012
There is no shortage of vanity stricken characters who ply the waters of thievery. Excellent expression, Axilea
Reviewed by Christine Tsen 4/30/2012
Everything about this is an awe-inspiring masterpiece right down to the title!
Reviewed by Mary Ann Biddinger 4/30/2012
Excellently captured watercolors of emotions Alexia.

Lady Mary Ann
Reviewed by D. Vegas 4/30/2012
Axilea, I will have to use Christine's words," You blow me away. "

Reviewed by Christine Alwin 4/29/2012
Brilliantly written, word play blows me away..the message is loud and clear..soaking it up!
Reviewed by Sheila Roy 4/29/2012
I love your approach here, Axilea. Original and true! Verse 2 made me feel sad, and left me wondering if ever my desk will collect dust and my pens will run dry from abandonment. Enjoyed.
Reviewed by John Flanagan 4/26/2012
i see in the context of the theme 'inconspicuous'
is perfectly right to modify 'tragedy' ...storm
in a teacup scenario; in the 'bigger picture' of the
world vanity is the shallowness that tempts the empty

once again, Axilea, you're there and you know

Reviewed by Jon Willey 4/26/2012
we are the whole of us, mankind, victims of self-esteem that far exceeds our innate abilities - how wonderfully you tell this story that intrigues the imagination - love stories ending in tragedy are always doomed by vanity - your poem entertains and educates with perspective Axilia - I wish you love and peace my dear friend - Jon Michael
Reviewed by Patrick Granfors 4/26/2012
You're so vain...I bet you think this poem is about you;-) Patrick
Reviewed by Ronald Hull 4/26/2012
You have a wonderful way of expressing emotions. In this case, stolen love never returned.

Reviewed by jude forese 4/26/2012
vanity is the destructive machine of mankind ... though i have to say, sometimes the vehicle of vanity is the reflection of justifiable self-esteem ...

as always, uniquely clever imagery and motif ...
Reviewed by Lily of Lough Neagh C. Dennis-Woosley 4/26/2012
How sad that another due to their own arrogance could possibly think that would work. Excellent write, gives others something to think about.

Love and Light
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton 4/26/2012
Vanity. Stupid should be said in the same breath.
Reviewed by Paul Judges 4/25/2012
Very good, Axilea
Reviewed by Douglas Bentley 4/25/2012
Very cleverly written
The rest of my review was stolen!
Reviewed by RWE SAYS BYE 4/25/2012
winning close to the mark here would press the noblesse oblige of an homage due to your vanity were I to tell how much these lines mean to me... elegant, clean, refined, sophisticated and super-subtle edge close to the perimeter of the passions outlined in this winsome, gambit... I feel the need to counter... watch out...
Reviewed by Charlie 4/25/2012
I'm imagining the Deus ex Machina as The Cat in the Hat in his little put-it-backer machine (squeak, clank, whirr). And just what would he put back? No, here there's mystery-- nameless mystery, and somehow less loneliness, I think, than if things were put back to rites (I didn't say "rights").

The poem builds from the first strophe, which is full of V's (vain, vases, invasion, vanity) and feels sort of barren. The second has some repeting vowel sounds and rhymes (O's and w's, desk-rest-test) and has some visual imagery in pastels of yellows and rust--feels less barren than sort of dumpy. In the end strophe, is the climax--knife scratching enamel smiles and storms and floods, subtly woven throughout that part are the softer n's, m's cutting short hissing s's, culminating in "silence..." It winds down at that point with what feels like an emptying stage-- actors limping away, and the reader/theater feeling the gutteral effects of the play (on words)--(c's in hocus-pocus, ex machina, can, cover, inconspicuous). V ends the poem again, but it's an empty victory.

The pic you posted is perfect for the piece, sets the perfect tone. Hope to read more of you soon. --Charlie

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