- when the surface shines, my eyes can still see clearly -
Quantum fields
open before my eyes,
like an El Dorado
of bright possibilities.
I am not enchanted
by today's disappointing reality:
the words skip from our mouths
before thoughts become clear.
In a contemporary mist,
I give up gossamer infatuation,
but that's the price I happily pay
to find my honey-blooded self.
Creeping between the shadows
of virtual reality -
like a snake -
with an appetite for warm flesh,
I abandon
dreams of sentimental entanglement,
tears shed for plastic beauty
and an illusion also known as love.
A thousand shining stars,
spared from an insipid childhood
wait in a drawer,
ready to stick on my skin.
With a colorful outfit
and a flashy makeup,
from behind the heavy curtain,
I will make a brief appearance.
It is not what you think:
not for laughter, money, glory.
It is just to hide - how convenient -
behind the mask of grace.
And with a girlish gesture,
I will wave to you,
I'll let you look at the surface,
while inside I'm looking at you.
Well, I might sound
like I'm having fun,
moving alluringly on the stage,
but I know I'm eating a cannibal,
which is redundant and absurd.
Hello Axelia,
Charlie suggested I may want to unfurl my braids and hop out of the tower to bathe under the spotlight, and she is right, there is something about SpotLight and MariGoMarigold that intertwine through the loom of us all.
Hugs
Selene
"I am not enchanted
by today's disappointing reality"
That seems obvious to say, but need to be said nonetheless. Hope you find that El Dorado. Hope you find the honey-blood in your veins. I love the honey-blood in your virtual ink.
Such empowering words.
Leo
She'd tasted Ken-doll, and found him unappetizing, so she moved on to meatier men. She's a Red-Riding-Hood on skip-rope safari through the Amazon (stage right). In her basket? a saber hunting knife, a serviette, and a roasting stick. She holds the cloth up to her face, "May I have some salt, please?" and he obliges. He wonders why he has a wooden leg now. But she knows, her eyes sparkling at the thought. --Charlie
Hmmmnnn great lines, wonderful strong images and nice even flow...we have a winner, and lets not forget the lovely picture of you that captures your whimsey.
i do love the thoughts you expressed here,the endless waltz,so many
lines that I can relate to,I do enjoy the glimpse you offfer up from under the murky depth of Axilea,we are all more the same than different i do think,
stan
You do choose your own reality my dear Axilea. Your analogies and metaphores are rooted in the ephemeral soil of thought and passion; your words give rise to transient mirages in my head.
From the author of Jupiter Remembered and Until It’s Time: Embracing Life In Our Later Years comes Petals of Love: Poetry of a Woman’s Soul – a heartfelt collection spanning more than thirty-five years. Through tender reflections, these poems offer g
NOW AVAILABLE!
This book is a limited edition, and copies are hand numbered. It will NOT be available through Amazon or other distributors. You must purchase it directly from the author or from this site. It is hard-back (not the spiral bind seen
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Charlie suggested I may want to unfurl my braids and hop out of the tower to bathe under the spotlight, and she is right, there is something about SpotLight and MariGoMarigold that intertwine through the loom of us all.
Hugs
Selene
by today's disappointing reality"
That seems obvious to say, but need to be said nonetheless. Hope you find that El Dorado. Hope you find the honey-blood in your veins. I love the honey-blood in your virtual ink.
Such empowering words.
Leo
fee
love Tinka
"I abandon
dreams of sentimental entanglement,
tears shed for plastic beauty
and an illusion also known as love."
beautifully written, yet one more time you bring the reader into your world!
lines that I can relate to,I do enjoy the glimpse you offfer up from under the murky depth of Axilea,we are all more the same than different i do think,
stan
It is a stimulating pleasing time to read a thought's striking composition like "Under The Spotlight".
The closing line of fourth strophe:
"and an illusion also known as love."
Last two lines of the eighth stanza:
"I'll let you look at the surface,
while inside I'm looking at you."
... and the closing lines of te last strophe:
"but I know I'm eating a cannibal,
which is redundant and absurd."
They did boil the ichor of my veins, and fed my imagination.
Thank You for posting Your Jewels.
In admiration,
Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU
Superb as always.
Keith