What do you think of 'Silent Circuses Dance' so much for poetry, poem?

E

elyslund

New member
Morning came unbidden with
chained thoughts, slaved to
this white page...it speaks to
me in whispered secret silence.

Which words am I allowed to write,
for I, like you, start and end in...
silence. Between, is the madness
of poetry and its dance...dance for me.

Am I not in the harem of the world...
in mysterious darknesses of corners...
veiled acientnesses beckoning, teasing...
in the dewdrop of a buttercup...

wrapped in cotton candy circuses
of words ferris wheeling, until, poetic
ride taken, alight in dizzyness, silence.
Leaving chained words on white pages

Of poetry...finished,
Done.

Strains of silent music...
the dance begins again.
Neon...one cup...then, facing a white screen...Oh lord! heheheheheheeeeeeeeeee..........!
Charles Trumball wrote again...whoa!
Regwah...if you can succeed in running away from poetry...PLEASE take me with YOU!!!!
Mizzy....Huh? Ya mean like.....
Mizzy...then write about the Garden...poetically, even the tiniest of gardens is one and the same as The Garden....true!
 
I found myself
atop a lion
as on the carousel
I went
round and round and round
ten feet above the ground
shhh.. don't make a sound
as the carousel
went faster
I saw my
lord and master
spinning in an orb
of fire
my only one desire
...and I jumped..
 
So, how many cups of coffee did this take? White screen, blinking eye, dormant mouse...what would Shakespeare have done? Probably written more! GM to you and your fine pen.
 
.....;).....
As a person with special needs you write extremely well.
However, you could get a better paying job with the postal service.
.....;).....
 
Oh to dance again...

loverly write. This one is a keeper, yes?!!!!

Yeah, I get the dizzyness often, just not always the dance before...giggles.

GM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :)
 
Your words are pure delight, apt to all that pen.
"Start and end in silence"
and yet like most things, there is no end, and always new beginnings.
 
Shh, the mistress of the word speaks in silence.
The white pages fill, we read, & enjoy.


G/M Elys. ( :
 
"For a dollar I tell your fortune"
barks the harker, soliciting
The tatooed weather worn flesh
of my free verse, nicotine stained
The peeling paint and rusting bolts
of a school picnic tragedy

Once I stalked these fair grounds
to find a fair haired girl, my age
to woo and strain form happiness
titling a fifth of Black label
and a morose smile
of hemp seed teeth

The vers' of philosophy
bent on the repugnant and vile
clinged to my soul like a hall of horror
where the mirrors distorted
the dangling skeleton's laughter

The sizzler of summer sings
a metal tune, of alumumin
and plastic lights color
revolving its lunar cycle
as I stand in line sweating
 
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