There was nothing left inside .
No dreams, no compromise.
It was all over .
Sages of broken promises.
Down from the mountains,
lost in the rough country .
Hoping for answers to questions
that have no answers .
Beneath a handsome , lonely old tree
she couldn’t quite kill him
but , she died a little herself .
Fear was stuck so deep
in her heart ,
it could not be dislodged.
How to move her anger
past her fear .
He kept her from something
she knew was her pride .
Sowing seeds of despair .
Crying tears of regret .
So tied up but , she can’t quite
cut the rope .
In love she trusts ,
driftwood ,
deadwood ,
broken branches of
damaged comfort .
Desolate darkness prevails .
Black widow answers
to the cinch of the rope .
From another lifetime
inside a clock that
leaks the future .
There is a language
in the mountains
that is calling her home .
Offline)
Comments3
Wonderful writing. All the stanzas are great, but that last one is magic. Did you paint the picture after you wrote the poem, or was it the other way round? WL you wrote something very special here! Goes straight into my favs!
I agree with Fred - the last stanza is marvelous. The Leaking Clock will stay with me for a long while (and brought to mind Salvador Dali's melting clocks). I will never look at a clock again without thinking it is leaking the future............
Super write WL, the emotion and imagery leak through your words so very well.
Superb painting.
A path turned and stretched to the unknown far away
leading by the calling
she followed the voice
to home
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.