Like the moon calls the ocean, when everyone's asleep
Like the night calls the day; silently
Like the love calls the young
Like death calls the weary
You called me
I'm sure you called
And I couldnt turn away
Woe is me
And now I'm here
Past the crossroads
My bridges flaming behind me
Dont turn me away, sweet; Dont turn me away?
I was sure I heard ur voice
But now you smile and turn away
And shrug and look perplxed, harrassed, in a polite way
Embarressed, I turn around. And walk back into the flames.
Like a Shadow behind me
Flickering, never going out
The ghost, of the memories, of the love
That I had imagined with you, trailing behind me
Devoted exclusively to the creative process. Here you will see photojournaling, poetry, prose, an occasional review--journaling or philosophical writing can be found on our other blogs. This is our attempt to use our imaginations. Enjoy!
Sunday, September 10, 2006
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3 comments:
I like, particularly, the last two stanzas and relate to expectations being ghosts, trailing behind.
"and look perplexed, harrassed, in a polite way.." is painful and very clear.
Prerona,
Sorry that this comments things isn't doing as it should--I've been playing with the HTML, doing exactly as blogger says and look what I get. Anyway, I like your poem very much and in a way, we seem to be thinking on a similar wavelength. You will see what I mean with the poem, for good or for bad, that I plan on posting today.
Prerona,
Really nice name!
Lost love will be with us forever. Strangely enough the
recall of the experience never leaves.
Peace
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