Poem -
tapping the Glass
All of life
presents itself for viewing
painted in the colours of a cold
god
from a bed the peacockĀ
Colours are frenzied. Manic
With huge voice and chorus and
voiceĀ
These lyrics of bedlam pretending
A choice
the windows are freezing and
dying and crying
the sun a lone monster that fails
to bring you
I'm disturbed by a ball being
Kicked by some child
By a robin that's tapping at
Glass to break through
M
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Comments
So very well worded!Ā I am lovingĀ "painted in the colours of a cold god" The picture it paints isĀ a cold day indeed. It is cold and noisy in this poem . There is so much going on here and it is written so well xx
Tina... thankyou so much. I truly mean that ... hugs xx
Your peace has been disturbed. By a cold god!? Ā BĀ
Ā
Yes B... that is exactly the situation these past years. Thanks so much ...hugs x
Exceptional.
A cellophane films over what the protagonist in this can't escape; Detached. A witness that can do nothing to affect the horror occuring as the sun comes upon her and the day rolls in settling to scratch even, like she's committed a sin, and Robin taps the glass to be let in.
I have discovered you don't like too much praise yourself R... me I love itš
so thankyou. Knew you'd get it because you often write in this cryptic kind of style yourself. Perfect interpretation by the the way for which I am truly grateful
hugs x