To Know

that moment when you know

beyond knowing --

            sharp right at the last stop,

            turn down a dead end street,

and suddenly you are that girl

 

            the one that fed on phony words,

            as though they were god-nectar

            dripped down from a crack in the floor

                        of nirvana

 

that instant when the Bougainvillea  bites back,

and there is blood on your thumb and forefinger,

on your white dress -- the gown of a ghost,

            not the robe of a saint

 

no church bells toll for you, only funeral dirges

played on out-of-tune pipe organs,

            mocking your mistakes

 

            because you fell for it again, like a child

            who wonders at the same magic trick

            ten times and doesn’t catch the right angle

 

and now you know how it feels --

and now you understand why flowers begin to die

            as soon as they are cut,

            no matter how many chemicals

            you add to the water

Reviews

[TL Boehm]

Brilliant. That last line is such a splendid metaphor for that thing that isn't quite love...

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you, my friend...you are always such a deep reader; I am glad you see what you do in my writing!

[Coyote Poetry]

A amazing use of words. The description took the reader to the reality of life. You create many visions of many things to make your point in the poem. So many lines stood out in the outstanding poetry.
Coyote

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you so very much, my friend!

[Carlton Rolle]

No church bells, only funeral dirges...
Sweep my mind.
Waiting for the last of the withered walls to tumble down.
It blinks.
Inside my head.
Flashing slower and slower until I'm no longer there.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you so much for the kind review.

[wordman]

I wonder how many people feel this emotion and feels there is no return
or if you have been made a fool of again a great write enjoyed the read

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you, glad you could relate :)

[wordman]

your welcome glad you wrote it where I could relate

[lee von cleef]

Big words at the start but in the end you cut to the Heart. Love at the end is a rip of personal pedestals we tip over exposing our wasted potentials .

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you so much for the review.

[Baby Ricochet]

Love the second stanza. Great work again

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you, my friend! Glad you liked this one.

[Me]

wow...profound stuff...superbly done hun :) x

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you so much!

[SquinklaPsyOps]

To be honest I am not really into poems because most of the writers have their own way of thinking and I am not a mind reader, but poems are for open interpretation and thats a rule. So here is mine.

The character in the poem is saying that no matter how much makeup she wears, she knows is going to give her wrinkles.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Haha Funny...but no...lol I do appreciate you taking the time to review, though.

[Ufi Auttorri ~ Amy C. T..]

This sounds like you're about ready to move in to the old motel down the street. The with the flickering neon sign and the vending machine that only works part of the time. The one with the seedy desk clerk in the T-shirt with gravy stains on it who continues to watch the TV in the back room as you bang the hell out of the bell on the counter. One good thing though... the rent's as cheap as the bedding and furniture imply it should be. Some tips though: don't trust "housekeeping" (keep your good stuff with you - always), don't accept rooms next to the pool (earthquake water tsunami), always check under the bed and in the closet and never, never leave food crumbs on the night stand overnight; the roaches are... huge. Oh, nice poem BTW. :) [P.S. You get a 100 for big dismal boo boos.]

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

You've lost me, my friend...lol I'm going to say thank you, just in case you were being complimentary ;)

[Ufi Auttorri ~ Amy C. T. Serrat]

Of course it was complimentary. Anytime something one writes can evoke that sort of insanity it could be nothing other than a badge of honor. When and where to wear the badge is a dress code yet to be discussed. ;-)

[JenniferMarie]

I feel like this is ready for publishing.

"the one that fed on phony words,
as though they were god-nectar
dripped down from a crack in the floor
of nirvana"
"and there is blood on your thumb and forefinger,
on your white dress -- the gown of a ghost,
not the robe of a saint"

"out-of-tune pipe organs,"

and on and on I really liked the poem.

And what a way to end it!

"no matter how many chemicals
you add to the water"

Thank you for sharing.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you so much, Jennifer...actually it is funny that you wrote this, because I just got word that it was accepted by a journal last night!

[JenniferMarie]

Wonderful news Sarah! Wishing you much success. Writers help the world slow down and reflect on life and see things in different perspective. It's a beautiful thing. Look forward to reading more from you.

Best regards,
Jennifer