![]() Casanova, where art thouA Poem by .:Arianna:.
'T was a mask.
The golden mask, that made him Casanova. The mystery, the charm, the flame, the poems. The poems that made me his. 'T was just the words. 'T was Casanova. Who is he now, now that the mask lies thrown before my feet? And he is gone... Was it not, after all, a desperate try to be free? One last hope, he could be who we all realised he's not. He can't be Casanova. For Casanova lies before my feet. The longing,the love.the seduction. The Beauty that was left for me. Casanova never flees. Not even when he runs out of words. He lingers, silent and bewildering, in this new form of poetry. Reasons I need not to hear. It is the fact, and that is clear. So I suppose, If he allows me to say so, his act is over. The curtain closed, no need to hover. 'T is Casanova, the best part of him. ![]() © 2011 .:Arianna:. |
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3 Reviews Added on July 6, 2011 Last Updated on July 6, 2011 Tags: mask, truth and lie, deceit, love, sacrifice, obscurity, clarity, contradiction, seduction, imagery Author![]() .:Arianna:.Amsterdam, NetherlandsAboutWelcome to my page and thank you for stopping by. I am Arianna, half Dutch, half Greek, half explorer, half philosopher. I was born in Amsterdam but at the age of one I moved with my parents to Greece.. more..Writing
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