when the one who once inspired has left the scene.. but wonders..
Days come and go
when I dance
almost elf-like across the folds
of the weave of life
and thoughts never
land too deep to get caught.
But sometimes
I stumble onto memories
All created with you
And I fall helplessly
Into the glacial fissure
of regret and
shuddering awareness of loss.
Then I write poetry
Secret lines
that I hide from my own eyes
as soon as they have bled forth
Things I should not see
If I want to walk straight
Not tearfully blundering.
Oh yes, I write at times,
But things so delicate
So fragile that they bleed on touch
Cannot be moved at all,
look best where they are
like spring-flowers
wilting when plucked,
most beautiful where they first grew.
Poetry by Teddy Donobauer
Read 595 times
Written on 2007-08-02 at 19:04
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'Do you still write poetry?'
Days come and go
when I dance
almost elf-like across the folds
of the weave of life
and thoughts never
land too deep to get caught.
But sometimes
I stumble onto memories
All created with you
And I fall helplessly
Into the glacial fissure
of regret and
shuddering awareness of loss.
Then I write poetry
Secret lines
that I hide from my own eyes
as soon as they have bled forth
Things I should not see
If I want to walk straight
Not tearfully blundering.
Oh yes, I write at times,
But things so delicate
So fragile that they bleed on touch
Cannot be moved at all,
look best where they are
like spring-flowers
wilting when plucked,
most beautiful where they first grew.
Poetry by Teddy Donobauer
Read 595 times
Written on 2007-08-02 at 19:04
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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kath |
