Sonnet
My Shadow in a Mirror Darkly:
The World is not-what I know, The Light is a different Hue. The Sound, a Language, strange-unknown, The Touch, a Sensation so alien new. To exist within a world of noise, Is to hear the hum of light, A frequency the others miss- Too sharp for common sight. The Crowd is a Sea, I cannot wade, The Words a Storm, I can hear, The Faces all a Blur, I see, Yet, Truth is always so near. The social rule, a heavy mask, To hide the inner fray, While “small talk” feels like passing time In slow, cold, rotting, dull, rotting decay. My Focus is a stimulating silver Ball, Held tightly in my quiet hand, I walk the path of “monotropism,” A vast empty solitary land. The Mind, a Web, I weave-alone, In Patterns, Bright and Clear, The World, may not comprehend, But I am always forever, here. To dwell in Patterns-precise and deep, An exacting Logic, cool and clear, Where others find a Tangled Mesh, To find a unique special Hemisphere, Something is off, and odd for me, A world glimpsed with but a glance. Knowing but yet it is always unknown, I stand alone in a different stance. The world is a cacophony loud, The world is fiercely bright, I seek a softer, mellow space, Where truth is spoken with a slant, And I can find my own safe place. My brain, begun to giggle and laugh, now split divided cut into two half. I mumbled like a dimwitted fool, sane and insane in a intertwined duel. And though 'tis years ago that day, still I chuckle my brain at play. My brain keeps giggling--still, laughing the mirth never to fill. Yet something's odd in me within, that noise, that internal din! That person that I am now was, whom they were now then yet does. But this one does not feel the same— that feeling it has not but no name. Could it yet be a touch of madness is this? final surcease of the world could be bliss...
By William Fletcher Gilreath3 days ago in Poets
Dreams Of Grief
Introduction This is my twenty-ninth piece inspired by Justine G. Cappelli's beautiful and inspirational artwork. I love that Justine always gives the full story behind the painting, which gives me more than just the painting to work from. Though I have taken the concept that Danu is grieving, I then interpreted my thoughts on this painting, which is the second panel of the commission, The Awakening of Danu.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 19 days ago in Poets
I Try to Read With an Open Mind/ How Lucky Barrett Browning Was
"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways." from Sonnet 43, Sonnets from the Portuguese by Elizabeth Barrett Browning I used to trust the ins and outs of love, A true heart’s allegiance unrestrained, A banner flying proudly bore the name, Of one who I could never give enough. Giving freely, with nothing to atone, While hoping for reciprocal respect, After all, if there is no giving back, Your self condemned to wander lost, alone. With single candle searching far and wide, Condemned to venture off the beaten path, Carrying a rope as spelunkers will, Not to become lost in winding caverns. Or like a miner and his caged bird, Relying on its tiny yellow songs, In sacrifice to breaths of poisoned air, Its hopeful feathered heartbeat ceased to stir. Fortunate Barrett Browning in her verse, To keep the knowledge where she could be found, Whether fictitiously in Portugal, Or on some other oft imagined shore. Protection of true love from its reverse, Lies in firm fidelity to your self.
By Natalie Wilkinson28 days ago in Poets
