You strum my body like a harp
Golden staccatos, I hum along
Weaving in and out each string
Hushed in tones, a quiet melody
You pluck each nerve until it quivers
Maturing against the open air, growing
To a fevered pitch. Stopping just long
Enough for harmony to reach its crescendo
You harp on me, and play me over and over,
Letting me voice the beautiful sounds of
Passion as sharp-edged arrows pierce me
With their fiery heads.
(C) all rights reserved MS 2002
Want to review or comment on this poem?
Need a FREE Reader Membership?
Reviews of "Play Me"
Reviewed by Marie Logan (Reader)
Reviewed on May 4, 2002
Fabulous write. Wonderful comparrisons and metaphors.
A young widow joins her aunt’s house-restoration project in the wilderness, determined to take a stand for independence, but two men have different plans for her—and so does God.
Falling to a rare sentinel illness and separated from her charges during a retrieval mission Xevera Nanay encounters the biggest threat to her survival but more importantly her autonomy when paramedic Michael Constantine recognizes and imprisons her
Share
Print
Save
Follow
Janet
Sandie Angel :o)
I love this one...
Beautiful as always...
Trixie