My inner inhibitions
new age demands new sense.
from flesh of old
grows tender leaves of Valentine
from idle hands where opposites attract.
I have seen my shadow's worth
pass beyond belief,
beyond the rag-and-bone, the bitten limbs
of time five miles accross my habitat.
no monument shall come from all of this;
this merry wood of winter,
as cold as all who touch Piccasso's skin.
there is ice upon this land where creeps the fall.
half-dead each bone now cast upon the sea,
plays mischief while the Weeping Woman sleeps.
come stand beside the hour of her need.
sunflower seed no longer breathes
a silence one less man can understand.
I am puzzled, I confess.
where hides the eyes that stalk my every move?
my inner inhibitions,
no letting go; all flowers rust;
I am not yours yet. my photograph; my friend;
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Author:
Melvin James (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 19th, 2025 09:15
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 26
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments3
Metaphor upon metaphor in this poem with great images and lines "as cold as all who touch Piccasso's skin" a great one.
I can see you besides a grave, wow the very painting of life and death extraordinary as ever, every last line. Loved the picasso line but I love every line. Forever poetry on a par of its own. 🌹
"Where hides the eyes that stalk my inner move". Wonderful...just wonderful, Melvin. Your imagery is always so rich and your work is so layered in metaphor. Brilliant! 🌹👏
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