Saturday, January 12, 2013


The template made clear cut,
fine-edged in skeletal relief,
its shadow thrown through blood
and bone, its pattern ridged
with grief. Cold echo from the past,
still drawing shadows real,
to grip my heel and dog my steps;
dark memories unfurled.
This pattern locking time
and holding visions stark,
to throw lost image cross my mind;
slow cut around my heart.
will soul still hold this print of pain,
desire's design long-shaped,
to show again the place where love
first learned the feel of hate.


  1. Brilliantly constructed. I love the internal rhyme and superb flow of this poem. Very accomplished writing.

  2. Wow! You nailed this! Extremely well done!

  3. dang....really great closure on this...ack...what a moment that is....really nice intentional use of language throughout....and this has a great rhythm to it as well....nicely done...

  4. Excellent...that ending especially drives it home.

  5. It is a clear cut template, isn't it.

    "90 Miles An Hour Down A Dead End Street" Bob Dylan sings of it, as I recall.

    And that last line of course -- like a brilliant sunset to a beach day in the life of a poem.


  6. Oh, and R. Ross since you didn't leave a link to your blog in your comment you were a bit of a hard girl to track down, but I did from the dVerse link list.

    And now my existence is perfect. :)

    Thanks for having popped in. I've had to take on a gainful employ in the past year and I don't have the time for blogging as I once did, but my somewhat permanent impermanent goal is dVerse weekly. :) So far, so good the past 2 weeks.