H(er)yperbole

Sometimes those little nothings actually mean SOMETHING.

Her hyperbole haunts the

hallowed halls of my memory.

Cumulus clouds surround and settle where

you were supposed to be....

here.

And hell hath no fury to compare against my

deepest and most sincere request for your

presence again.

As faded pictures become mirages of our

once-real melange,

I am reminded as I touch upon my neck,

smelling the sweetness of your breath there....

that these hallowed halls still hold your hyperbole.

Complete with

a star from your smile and a twinkle from your eyes,

good-byes that,

then, never meant a thing,

yet seemed so real.

As time lost beckons reality from hiding

with the softest voice,

it's all I can do to acquiesce, because

this hole in my chest feels like the death of this

will never rest.

And I continue to caress my cochlea with calm as I

escape instances of your hyperbole.

Reviews

[robin]

caressing my cochlea, surely to god there's some special reward like when you get a a royal flush for word mixes like these. It reminds me of the similar case of women who are extra ticklish and how loud they can be in flagrante delicto. Well Done!

[TamiViolet]

Michael, you capture the feeling of emptiness so well here. And the
word choice is so creative, loaded with vivid images and high
intensity. "goodbyes that then, never meant a thing'... This line will
remain with me.. This piece will rest opon my profile page and go
into my favs. I'm touched, particularly at this point in my life.
X

[Loner]

This has a passionate flow to it ringing in my ears. So many people can say so many things about love and what's lost and sometimes a particular voice makes it shine uniquely. I think you've begun to achieve that. I adored the honesty in this poem. It came across as heartfelt with no pretense. A good write, intelligent vocabulary, and an aesthetic rhythm that made me appreciate this in it's entirety.

[R J Askew]

hyperbole/hole/hallowed/halls/mirage/melenage ... some great little rhymes and semi-rhymes slide through this one discretely, not clanging away at the ends of lines all obvious like. It feels sooo different to the one I read on Friday in mood. Wistful sad. You also conjour up some great images to build the scene. I can see the clouds round the now empty sofa. And the ghost in the halls, sounds like Elsinore. And the request for the missing one reminded me of Othello when his lady was no more, literally. Touch and breath take us straight from ghosts and the dreaminess of memory to the physical and the intimate. Then you combine the two...the abstract love symbol of twinkling stars with the physical reality of lips and eyes. Neat. I'm getting into this......... "As time lost beckons reality from hiding" effing great line that, real aching pain in that. This love will just not lay down and leave you alone. I can see a finger beckoning...the memory just KNOWS it WAS true WAS real and is desperate to have it back. Effing aching for it! And then 'the death of this will never rest' takes us back to the ghost at the top. You'll have to help me with the last two lines though, i can't solve them. I dunno what 'cochlea' means, it aint in my dictionary, but its an old dictionary. Great job, sir.

[Kena Dawn Augustine]

Wow. Deep and I like the bigger vocabulary. When I read it it made me feel I have to step up my game a little, because these poets are fierce!!!

[Bubo]

Love the fab title............and we all are capable of that hyperbole, your right, little things sometimes
turn out to be huge things..........often its like that book "Women are from Venus, Men are from Mars", we see things so differently, and often a woman will not voice directly what troubles her, and if misunderstood by her loved one, well...........it's a time bomb.............such sadness in your piece, yet the end line you feel the need to escape.........beautifully penned.

[Choosing Life]

I love your choice of vocabulary in this piece. You scripted the haunting so well. I became haunte with you. I am sure there aren't many that haven't been haunted in this way...

P.G., Write on King