discarded

 Moonstone speckled portals of iris

A siren’s song enticing me down your rabbit hole

drowned forever in surrender to you.

One glance 

to be strung along the beads of enchantment

fragile pearls of my trust

gingerly caressing your intentions

 

I yearned for your spasm               

raw and open  

screaming from depths of self

Engulfing my being

the core of existance

the one true soulmate

burning me at the stake

 

Dusty chambers of my heart

opened by deceptive assurance of homage

Cold and empty at the first note of discord

aching for stolen entrustment

forever dispersed the

Crematory ashes of naive faith

 

Discarded 

a heart so fooled

by fancy words of endearment 

dragging me along the surface 

suffocating in the blood of my burn

Insanely clawing at your throat with sharpened cries 

useless in stopping the slow death of your politeness

devotion deep as the well running dry with the pen

 

Each day in absence

further twisting the fabric of compassion

from memories of silken embrace

to harsh reality of burlap

mourning the death of what never existed in your heart

I willingly ingest the pain for a fix of the illusion

 

 

†he canyon between you and the ghost of you

is crossed on spinning bridges 

never knowing which side I land 

while clever faces court my sex

new lovers in wait with pretty words

morphin for the kill

a stagnant poison from loving you

discard myself to their calls

For the wounded 

seek vengance 

is not mine

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Shadow Writer]

An emotionally charged piece. Phantom........

[Wildecat]

You have painted amazing picture with your words, you have covered lots of emotions in this wonderfully written poem.

[Pax Analog]

"There ain't no cure for love" wrote Leonard Cohen.

Your words are silken filigrees of romantic anguish. No matter how "wised-up" one gets, one can still be "sucker-punched" by sharing intimacy with one who embraces the pleasure, while withholding the heart. God I hate that. Once is forced to "err" on the side of vulnerability, nonetheless, because armoring oneself cuts off access to deeper feelings, which cuts off access, ultimately, to even the spiritual heart. So, ironically, the intentionally and unintentionally "shiftless" are ultimately hurting themselves even more than the "short-straw" lover taking the greater risk.

"Each day in absence/further twisting the fabric of compassion/from memories of silken embrace/to harsh reality of burlap/�ourning the death of what never existed in your heart/I willingly ingest the pain for a fix of the illusion." Wow. That's a courageous confession, one completely understood.

Strong poem and one wishes a poetic justice of the fulfilled heart for the poet.

[Phill Oz O'fee]

I really enjoy getting absorbed in a creatively metaphorical write and this did it for me! Loved the imaginative use of word structure and the verse flow.

I found the imagery both poignant and sad; tinged with self guilt and regrets.

Excellent!

Phill(ozofee)

[Rodney Ray Hatchell / U..]

I think it could have been serval poems,, It was very well written. But the vision I was getting jumped from one to another ..But I remind you this was beautiful ,,but could be two poems,,you have great mind for writting, Poems can be short also and leave a reader stun in thought all day with your writting . I hope I didn't hurt your feeling because you are a good writter with pin. GBU,RodneyRay
I am not the best with grammer nor
spelling but I am good in vision.
I did enjoy
your writting

[J D Roland]

Beautifuly written. Pulling at reader to experience love, despair, confusion and deciet discarded. Very nice.

[Crap!]

An enjoyable read simply for the way you use the verse but the last lines sound strange or perhaps it is only my limited use of syntax. A good read nonetheless.

[Eagle Cruagh]

Crematory ashes of naieve faith. Wow ! Do you
ever pour it on. Using words imparted in the
evolution of language, you twist and turn the
knife in the portals of our hearts.
A classic in the language, but how do you really
feel ?
This was an experience in language art, a growth .
I loved it, please give us more.

[Roy L. Pickering Jr.]

You wield your pen quite nicely, Kathleen. Your mastery of language is well displayed in this piece. The topic is one written quite frequently about, but then again, what worthy subject is not. It isn't what the poet writes of that matters so much as the eloquence used to breathe new life into it, and you did a masterful job of resuscitation. Of the many well phrased passages, my favorite was - "Each day in absence further twisting the fabric of compassion from memories of silken embrace to harsh reality of burlap". Conside me a fan of your work who will be back for more.

[Anthony D. Howe]

Well written, I can identify with the pain in this. The whole you really want someone, you yearn for just their touch, and they give you those words, "Lets just be friends". The line that really got me was,

Insanely clawing at your throat with sharpened cries
useless in stopping the slow death of your politeness

Because everyone knows that nice guys finish last right?