 |
Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+ |
Custom Search
|
|
|
||||
| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 09-June 17:22:59 AEST | ||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
Array
(
[sid] => 73533
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Leopards to the snow
[time] => 2004-11-29 00:52:57
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => In the night on cold slivered stakes, where leaf and love are found at once and skies rein above, the rain touches her hands. She is so confused, so lost to what she's supposed to be, what everyone thinks she is. She wants to be a woman, wants it so badly she throws her childhood away, a perfect world for employment and endlessly vomiting every weekend; her perfect world for everybody else. She wears makeup to lift herself, make herself beautiful; she's forgotten that she's already beautiful that the makeup doesn't even touch what she is. She is the worlds. She is the virgin whore. As dawn tips and spills into the sky, a boy watches the rain. The leaves are gone, the wind is touching his hair. He is alone. He cannot have love. He is strong, but he is afraid. He is a man, yet he is afraid of becoming a man. He goes to work every morning, smokes his life away. His eyes are beginning to wan. He is tired. He dresses in black coat despair with silver trim. He cries because all he feels is tears. He has forgotten what it is like to be still. He is the worlds. He is the beast in all of the beauty. She looks out. She sees her eyes. She sees her smile. she sees a white sky. It is poetry tattered and broken with snow. It is suicide silk and surrender. She touches the glass; it is all she can feel. She dreams the glass, she dreams she is forever. She is endless cheer; timeless masquerade. She has nothing left, nothing but the falsity. She sees nothing but the glass. He wakes in the night. He is afraid. he remembers a friend; lost to the lies he told him. Oh, how great it was, how beautifully serene. He is timeless like those before him; his eyes can no longer hold the pain. He finds a light and he desperately clings to it. And he cries and he pleads; and he will never be free. Never be free from the burdens he carries. He looks out. He sees his eyes. He sees his smile. He sees nothing but himself. They two travel side by side. they are wonderous sleeping, sad in their embrace. They are finger to finger, satin trace to touch the sky. They are apart, forever together. It is in this that they are not their own; that they are black plastic figures, marveled magazines; it is in rage that they see more. Oh, more and more and more. And they are leopards to the snow. And they are not beautiful. They are the worlds. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 179 [topic] => 48 [informant] => iodinelove [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => EmotionalPoetry )
|
Menu
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others
Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©
Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster
All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com
All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.
Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com