I was traveling to meet you
when—
I turned a blind corner
and our words collided.
I tried to stop the flow of speech,
but my foot slipped off the brake
and we clashed
--Crashed
Toppling the two of us—
Leaving me injured
and vulnerable to attack
But, you--
You got up and walked away…
Taking my scattered words with you.
You took my words and mixed them--
Mixed them with deceit,
and then you spattered them like raindrops
along the path ahead.
The rain
turned into sl-i-c-ing sleet
on the dark and balmless day
when I tried to walk that way.
My words –
Now barely discernable as my own-
became an enemy to me.
I called out to you to come back.
(come back!)
But you didn’t hear me,
and I realized then, you never had…
I really like this one Cryssa...
John
The mind sees the images as they are read and beyond...
Georg
Be always safe,
Karen
I like the way you kept experimenting throughout the poem.
Axilea
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :(
Connie
A poetic flower... "Blind Corner" diffues art and strikes imagination.
In admiration,
Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU
There is a deep sense of poignancy in these words: this can be read on multiple levels. Having words turned around until they're unrecognizeable? Having words stolen and credited to the theif? Excellent thought provoker, love the imagery.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.