Footsteps of safron? Wow, does he know how much that stuff costs? :)
Like the exotic spice that went to waste, so did the redolence and zest of his mistreated mate. Precious herbs, and savories just like piquant paramours in our lives are delicate, and need to be handled with respect, and a gentle touch.
Being a chef I thought this poem was going to about the actual spice, nevertheless, I wasn't disappointed by the least bit. You're poem was seasoned just right, and simmered to perfection.
i could relate to this poem several times throughout my life, situations leaving me hurt and confused. i like how it's narrative in style. i enjoyed it.
You express vulnerability in a way I find both couragouse and it makes me want to like and know you the person inside, more so than the average author-reading relationship.
Out of the box of your life, and into the frying-pan, you are a genuine writer.
1. Broken petals who lost their voices
You are a master of understatment, a rare device to witness executed properly.
You create a definate mood and a personality to this one-- I enjoyed the whole poem but like I said the personality you give this one is very real.
Outstanding craftsmanship!
This poem would have been powerful even without the spice proviso, but you used that to great effect.
What is especially poignant in this exchange is the woman's soul-desire never syncing w/some surface chemistry and socialization, so that she's observing her yielding as if it is happening to someone else, in pain in spite of apparent propriety.
"He gave me silver jewelry,/And acted like a gentleman,/Clasping every necklace/ for me,/But they hung like nooses./When he left, I could see/Crushed saffron in his footsteps,/Broken petals who lost their voices/A long time ago."
The archetypal ache of this beautiful sad truth lingers long in the heart after reading. Its power is in its depth and range of application. It is one woman, all women, the artist, the soul-ghost in the machine of the global Matrix.
"He gave me silver jewelry,
And acted like a gentleman,
Clasping every necklace for me,
But they hung like nooses.
When he left, I could see
Crushed saffron in his footsteps,
Broken petals who lost their voices
A long time ago."
god-just love this ending!!!
this is a wonderful poem!!!
Je m'appelle Lauren. I'm very dramatic. Other random things about me:
- I have a passionate love for all things ironic.
- 80% of what I say is sarcastic.
- I like big words. They are fun.
- I .. more..