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Trench.
By Mute Serenade
Run, hideaway-
She's a trench,
You know,
A swamp.
A couch
On which
Complacency looms...
Contently
Contemptly
(something with a C)
She picks
Her fingernails-
Knees to her chest
To seem innocent
Swamp, valley, lagoon-
Quicksand-
Or something like that
So inviting
(Impenetrable invincibility)
To you
I can't meet my eyes to it,
to her,
With foresight.
Brotherly love
So this
Is how we sit
Upon thrones
In our family
(In your world)
So much constriction
Restriction
On tongues
On words
It's nearly rotted away.
Stripped
(Paint chipped words)
I won't journey over quicksand,
Darlin',
For any of it.
Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited.
Ask the author first.
Copyright 2004 Mute Serenade
Published on Wednesday, April 21, 2004.
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Comments on "Trench."
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On Wednesday, September 20, 2017, carlosjackal
(3012)
wrote:
Like the void, she'll suck you in and leave you a barren, empty soul...Brilliant warning poetry and top shiz.
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A former member wrote:
Fascinating work, i am in awe of the form and the method in which every line is speaks. Your words paint vividly, this is inspiring, well weaved.
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On Wednesday, August 30, 2017, Arwen
(187) wrote:
Well at least you will not be trapped. Great imagery and feeling in your poem!
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On Wednesday, April 21, 2004, capt_funguy
(778) wrote:
(paint chipped words) .. oh man ... i'll buy that ... speaking in royal dialect ... with or without the thrown . .. bangola .. east of rackacka ... funguy
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On Wednesday, April 21, 2004, manywalks
(750) wrote:
I'd say wow, but Tim's already done that. This was mind numbing intense, reached in and pulled something from me. ~ mw
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