My spirit
Lost
Flew away past rainy November days
Bleak nights
Once lit up my soul
Now dread
consumes me
I wait cause I know
I wait
Soon the glitter in the sky will sparkle down
Colours will light up the streets
New dreams will sustain me again
I wait
My seams broken
Slowly bleeding the stardust from my veins
The man smiles
Keeper of my magic
Killer of desire
Death of imagination
Inspiration dwindling, gasping, gone
Flatlined
cold November days
A small November infinity
Blurry images in the distance
My spirit glowing ahead
I know I'm there
I'm there
So who is here?
my seams broken / slowly bleeding the stardust from my veins This is a key passage because in another poem you use STARDUST as a symbol of your accumulated poems. By using the image of the blood stream you've put poetry at the center of your being. But the man who smiles is a trickster. Who is he indeed? Could he be like Stanley who destroys Blanche's dreams in STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE? Actually, he destroys her ability to sustain her dreams which is more insidious. And this male figure takes away your desire, your poetry, your inspiration. He may be a composite figure of all those forces which threaten creativity in an individual. This poem has no closure. Like the bleeding stardust, it's about creativity draining away. Quick, write another poem to counter it! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It is wise to keep your potentialities veiled; to manifest yourself at the proper time to valuing company. 'I have done one braver thing, Than all the worthies did; And yet a braver thence doth spring, Which is, to keep that hid' (John Donne) .