Wednesday, February 25, 2015
The woman was a monochrome landscape,
She was right outside for the sitting layers,
Another summer had begun to reply to the ears,
As more statues became offenders and defenders.
These eyes closed, wondering was the order of some
Mood or entrance of thought, the very black specks
In midwinter, these eyes were lonely and bright;
The woman desired nothing on the ridges of joy.
Her eyes distanced us with voices of forgiven winter,
The heart and mind tugged the foggy ears,
But the entry into pristine whiteness was of heaven,
And I was a sense of this white and black landscape.
She wondered why I saw the clothes of dirt and waste,
Hostile to the life of this world that parted from darkness;
So she flung herself pinching, subsisting, tensing,
And annihilating freely from lusts of this delicate potion.
Topic(s) of this poem: free verse