Reverb

yeah, yeah, yeah

 

it was hard to leave the stage behind

it never made us any less or more

that spotlight always seemed to chase us
through the night like rain

 

to small apartments on unfamiliar streets
or a penthouse with dizzying attitudes

secret knocks on muffled doors 
skeleton key to the gates of sin

 

they bore gifts upon leather couchs 
incense , mirrors and drunken offerings

shallow smiles and pouted purrs

upon beds that never slept 

 

that smell of another morning

as you searched for a cigarette

trying to quiet the echoes

before doing it all over again  

Reviews

[Circe]

I think you really had to have lived it like you have to capture it in this way, the essence and soul... the loneliness in the freedom... one moment too beautiful to contain and to be held and so you move on to the next... even in the broken and wasted things you can find yourself there, and it seems to fit for a second.... special piece of writing this one.

[Michael of Gilead]

With the echos of the amplifiers ringing in your head.....

Great job Robin

[Ryzo]

A great piece of writing! Dazzled and spellbound by it! :)

[theunionisloud]

This, to me, sounds like the poem of dysthymia. Not morbid, just... kinda pathetic... and long-lived. I imagine the narrator of this piece to have a potty mouth and a sensitive soul. Well written.

[Coyote Poetry]

The poem is amazing. It would be hard to leave this apartment.
"they bore gifts upon leather couchs
incense , mirrors and drunken offerings
shallow smiles and pouted purrs
upon beds that never slept "
A amazing poem. Thank you for sharing your positive words.
Coyote

[Veronica Chandler]

This piece evokes another time, the way you dance the words has me spinning like a whirling dervish! Delightful imagry.

[Joiedevivre]

aaaa pure magic. Love this one! flows like a drop of honey down your throat, smooth, rich and sweet, it sticks with you.

[Jeff Loquist]

man, there is a lot of romance here. intense imagery and it breathes honesty. really enjoyed it the third time as much as the first

[Sel Whiteley]

Brilliant, how sound can define whole peroids of our lives as mere echoes, the morning after the performance. Love the amount of fine detail in your poetry, the listing of objects and so on, particularly in the second and third stanzas, because they make the poem so vivid.