hearts are to some mere morsels, much like livers to be enveloped in onion driven rains becoming torrents......to others they are delicate flagships housed in glass bottles placed intricately on mantles for viewing.....and yet to others they are the marshmallow goodness of consumptively delicious smore's of living. it is my hope we all can obtain that dose of flagship intricacy with the passion of marshmellowy goodness. it is my prayer.
Art by Dimitry Vorsin
bereft through living
she examined her
post-humus musings
determined some of them
to be glaringly shallow
ineffective and less than
stellar glimpses of times
but...she trekked onward
toward the pillars of note
taking and speculative
jottings to perhaps stimulate
emotive panderings or chagrin
of those with whom took their
time to ponder her grey matters.
she misses him like a limb
or the prosthetic replacement
she misplaced yet another time.
no she misses him like she
misses herself the she that only
shines in his presence-the she
that was top shelved early in life
for the oh so safe keeping.
he knows that. so she returned home.
for good measure and the sake of hope.
WOW, I bow to your pen and am honored to share space in this den with real poets. In gratitude forever for caring to share. You are truly a phenomal woman. (reference is to your bio. 5 children)
Reviewed by Anna Marie Fritz (Reader)
Reviewed on March 22, 2008
When it comes to love...whether in its infancy stage, its passionate 'middle' or the pains culminating in its demise...one thing is for certain. There is always "hope."
Well written.
It sometimes makes me cringe to think what we have come to accept at times, for the sake of others, and for hope of something better,which is like a toss of the dice...Excellent poem Donna!
How often we come to depend on the love in our life as we do our hands, feet etc to pull us through the life we are so accustomed to. Thank you for sharing your words with us Donna.
Interesting and very effective with the stunning image that you have chosen. Sometimes a one sided love or a captured trophy heart can leave that person feeling the inadequecy of not being wanted. Well done Donna.
Love does have a strangle hold that is hard to just walk away from and not know you miss it.
Reviewed by blue soplain (Reader)
Reviewed on March 18, 2008
mon dieu....a heavy intimate protrait of what i interpret as some self.isolationism; and that iamge to convey above [vey surreal indeed; thought immediately of Dali, but stand corrected]. . ..
and your words illustrate that st.ringed attachment to all things intangible and esoteric that we have....phantom pain.ts and gentle imagined wings that hold us and keep us free simultaneously. ..
this was jsut luminous but a tint of something akin to forlorn. ...
not quite despairing, but trying to hold on or let go both. ..
again....wow.
ness
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Well written.
Love Tinka
Be always safe,
Karen
Oh I Can Feel The Yearning Of Missing This Type Of Loss.
This is a very well worded poetic express my friend :)
Embrasse'
Vickie
NewfieHugs, Rose
Fee
and your words illustrate that st.ringed attachment to all things intangible and esoteric that we have....phantom pain.ts and gentle imagined wings that hold us and keep us free simultaneously. ..
this was jsut luminous but a tint of something akin to forlorn. ...
not quite despairing, but trying to hold on or let go both. ..
again....wow.
ness