The rain breaks through the day; leaving nothing
outside a keyhole space for the sun to
show his face once more: even the fields bathed in grey
Battle starved emotions neglected in their fabric.
I feel as if such sadness has shrunken my skull.
Satire stitch your mouth –
my aim is not to raise a smile – come join me instead
in this gentle dance of single solitary subsistence.
Oh God did make me small, insignificant
hurling stones from the mouth of my very living.
I miss us – in dreams that transcend
their shadows end.
We came together once – you and I
lodging on a needle point of
volatile seismic existence – stoning each other lifeless.
My hand outlines your name in a tableau
of so many painted misunderstandings.
Seeking not new pastures, this woman’s
sigh of regret, slips serenely: from her lips
© Poppy Taylor 2013
Today’s featured poem comes from Poppy Taylor, one of our regular writers. A comment on the loss of love and the loneliness that follows, this is a deeply introspective piece. Strong imagery throughout, Poppy weaves a tale which is deeply personal, but transcends into a familiar telling to many. Accomplished, darkly beautiful and timeless.
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