Green Elephant
By lupus tenebrae
The jealous mastodon outside,
is talking
with the rainfall, asking
“who hasn’t been inspired?”
Easy to say, with halogen tusks,
and enough mystique to last decades,
“too easy indeed“, said the rain.
Not even the crickets,
with their harsh satirical chirp,
can deny that, without question
Though…
Through fear, and naivety, youth
had taken a closer look, for once,
and found the key to illusions;
Uncertainty, and without the picket fence,
the chain-link
doghouse, and old man,
it’s simply not a creature, nor home, anymore.
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Copyright 2012 lupus tenebrae
Published on Wednesday, May 9, 2012.
Filed under: "Reflective" and
"Poetry"
Author's Note:
There's a story behind it, but, that would destroy whatever mystique there is to be had. Of course, it seems random without explanation, hmm...catch 22.Comments on "Green Elephant"
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On Monday, March 5, 2018, carlosjackal
(3014) wrote:
Fabulously intriguing... This is like a poetic riddle based on a true story but so much more than that and the sum of its parts. Wonderful job.
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A former member wrote:
Reminds me of when we left the only home I'd known when I was 15... Thanks for sharing, I read the note after I read it, thanks for letting it be just for me!
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On Monday, May 21, 2012, dwells
(4285) wrote:
I would say well done but I can't stop rubbing my hind legs together to make that damned chirping sound! You are a wonderful rascal, thanks Wolfie.
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On Monday, May 21, 2012, lupus tenebrae
(872) wrote:
Well, you can take five next time I make a joke, that tends to bring the others by the thousands. Thanks.
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On Wednesday, May 9, 2012, Devilish
(2658) wrote:
So sometimes i feel targeted .. it wouldnt be a guilty conscience this time it would be passed experience.. your a beautiful writer and i love your work but if im commenting on something directed in a certain direction i would feel even more ignorant than i look..
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On Wednesday, May 9, 2012, lupus tenebrae
(872) wrote:
Which is why I left it ambiguous, I often feel like the ignorant one, when someone corrects me on my interpretations. Part of the art is the interpretation. One must find their own meaning, their own reason to make this poem special.