The dark interior
of cupboards, drawers,
wardrobes, smell of dust
and fading blue water,
spiders spin there;
silky dream catchers
for impossible dreams
Shadows at the door,
no longer a promise
but rather, a taunt,
catching me every time
Where there might have
flickered, once, hope;
a second, a third, a final chance,
dust lies as silent, as thick,
as all the words we ever said
and still I cannot hear...
...a breath, merely, not even that,
rather the tunnel, moments after
the train has gone, or the deadness
of cracked glass, nothing comes back,
no matter how loudly I scream.
Comments
SundaysChild | April 12, 2011 - 17:33
A striking, haunting poem shoe, much enjoyed
Silver Spun Sand | April 12, 2011 - 17:39
I just love this, shoe. Those wonderful opening lines, my favourite:-
"The dark interior
of cupboards, drawers,
wardrobes, smell of dust
and fading blue water,
spiders spin there;
silky dream catchers
for impossible dreams"
Tina
MistakenMagic | April 12, 2011 - 17:56
I've just re-read Samuel Beckett's 'Endgame' - and your haunting imagery here really reminded me of Beckett's 'bare interior'. Brilliant poem!
Magic xxx
fatboy74 | April 13, 2011 - 10:05
Delicate and haunting and rather beautiful. :-)
Overthetop1 | April 13, 2011 - 10:57
I really love this Shoe - lovely, poignant, and stays with you. Quite special.
seashore | April 14, 2011 - 05:48
I agree with previous comments - a real `mood' poem. Melancholy - yes that's it. Lovely.
shoe | April 14, 2011 - 08:54
Thank you very much, pleased you enjoyed it.
kheldar | April 14, 2011 - 14:52
Marvellous stuff Shirley!!
:--) xxx
maggyvaneijk | April 16, 2011 - 22:46
stunning, so beautifully crafted just like a silky spider web. I'm in love with these lines:
...a breath, merely, not even that,
rather the tunnel, moments after
the train has gone