it's amazing what meaning can be derived from a frozen image of time
"Photographs deceive time, freezing it on to a piece of cardboard where the soul is silent"- Isabel Allende
It's warm today.
Lifeless though realistic flowers
Glistening with plastic dew
Flop upright at my side.
How can something so dead look alive?
Upon standing light flashes across my eyes
in patterns seemingly scattered
by some unknown shadow
And disoriented I begin to walk
Away, somewhere.
Sense enters not into this movement,
Surreal as it is when all I can think of
Are memories interrupting circadian rhythms
I once took comfort in,
When de ja vu was locked away safely.
I smell unsurety on the sea breeze
As I count the leaves on a bush
Older than me, with splashes of red
highlighting the plebian green
foliage is supposed to be.
Everywhere is calm.
I hear the sound of trucks in the distance,
Carrier vessels travelling to and from
Destinations buzzing with activity
When in the driver's seat is but one.
Footsteps echo on the wooden boards
that creep their way through the house.
I linger high in the air as to hear only faintly.
Thoughts of obligation now enter.
I wish to pack my mind away to better realms
Where I breathe my own air,
Thick as it is.
Brick steps peel under my feet
and into the darkened room I shuffle
to enter a developed world of
Time chilled on ice.
Poetry by Caila Ihle
Read 872 times
Written on 2006-12-05 at 09:47
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Snapshots
"Photographs deceive time, freezing it on to a piece of cardboard where the soul is silent"- Isabel Allende
It's warm today.
Lifeless though realistic flowers
Glistening with plastic dew
Flop upright at my side.
How can something so dead look alive?
Upon standing light flashes across my eyes
in patterns seemingly scattered
by some unknown shadow
And disoriented I begin to walk
Away, somewhere.
Sense enters not into this movement,
Surreal as it is when all I can think of
Are memories interrupting circadian rhythms
I once took comfort in,
When de ja vu was locked away safely.
I smell unsurety on the sea breeze
As I count the leaves on a bush
Older than me, with splashes of red
highlighting the plebian green
foliage is supposed to be.
Everywhere is calm.
I hear the sound of trucks in the distance,
Carrier vessels travelling to and from
Destinations buzzing with activity
When in the driver's seat is but one.
Footsteps echo on the wooden boards
that creep their way through the house.
I linger high in the air as to hear only faintly.
Thoughts of obligation now enter.
I wish to pack my mind away to better realms
Where I breathe my own air,
Thick as it is.
Brick steps peel under my feet
and into the darkened room I shuffle
to enter a developed world of
Time chilled on ice.
Poetry by Caila Ihle
Read 872 times
Written on 2006-12-05 at 09:47
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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