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Joli's Journal


Joli's Journal

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2 entries this month
 

Through Sharon's Halls

10:23 May 14 2011
Times Read: 545





These are not my hands,

This cog and lever

In a Da Vinci render,

Scrabbling for the last supper.

I am walking in someone else's dream,

Another face

And another face

Hidden in hands.

Oh, her head hangs

On such a thin neck,

Whites of her eyes gone,

Housedress hanging

On such an ancient thing

That raises her hands

And screams.

Color, agressive and wrong,

Shades out harmony

In strokes of orange crayon

That melt in the plump hand

Of a mad child,

Dripping down the walls

Like spin-art and lies

And I cannot breathe this air,

Air that flicks its long fingers

And sets a shining mobile spinning

Above a cold, forgotten crib,

Faster and faster, flitting

And glinting like the knife in my hand.

COMMENTS

-



BLOODLIFE
BLOODLIFE
14:17 May 14 2011

When a poem leaves me with an open eyed expression and goose pimples running the length of my spine it tells me I wish there was more to read.

You haven't just captured the essence but also the 'WOW' factor. I loved it.

More more more ......





Vampirewitch39
Vampirewitch39
02:54 May 15 2011

For some reason- that reminds me of the feelings I get when walking into a abandoned building.



And I agree- more please. :)





 

Ashes

06:55 May 02 2011
Times Read: 586


Sawhorses, silver and sagging under the weight of the sun,

Old soldiers left to stand sentry before an anonymous door,

Canting sideways in crazy angles, resisting one more day

The embrace of mother earth as she reaches.


Tireless. Keep reaching. Outreach everyone if you want to win.

Stay on your feet. Reach that goal. Sleep when you are dead.


Fatigue, my enemy, riptide against my legs, always pulling,

Reducing the blessed shore to an ever thinning horizon line.

I surrender. I have no more fight in me,

No desire any longer to resist your relentless serenade.


Time to seek your face. In the dusty earth or the salty sea

Shade me and save me and grant me a silver shored dream.


COMMENTS

-



Nightgame
Nightgame
14:00 May 02 2011

Life at it's most basic and done so beautifully, thank you





LiamK
LiamK
11:25 May 09 2011

“...

Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel  

There is the empty chapel, only the wind's home.  

It has no windows, and the door swings,  

Dry bones can harm no one.

Only a cock stood on the rooftree  

Co co rico co co rico  

In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust  

Bringing rain "





Joli
Joli
23:13 May 09 2011

The friend of my heart brings me my beloved Eliot. I must have done something right in this world.








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