Sunday, August 3, 2014

Signal

172


The last signal jumbled, became unclear,
as if the words you spoke, had no point,
could not disclose what you meant, as drip,
drip, dripping through gauze without
sound, pooling in flamboyant irritation,
at my feet with no appetite for truth, no
desire to touch the sun, reach for bliss,
in that way in which love can never tire;
in that way of returning to me....

http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2014/08/03/wordle-172/

8 comments:

  1. What a strong signal drip drip dripping through this piece the heavy water laden gauze like a heavy heart...fantastic!

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  2. Wow what a wonderful write! No appetite for truth, no desire to touch the sun, reach for bliss, love never tires, and you return to me, no words more beautiful! No you think that is where fairy tales come from?

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  3. Many words spoken have no point and the hearer wonders why people talk so much and say so little. This poem has said much with few words. Well done!

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  4. Oh the bitter break up as words reluctantly heard stab deep into the heart. How well you painted the picture with your words.

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  5. So few words to say so much. You've created a mood of loss and anger. Victoria

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  6. Wonderful read, so much in this small group of words.

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  7. I was captured by the final line and how words often come back to us with sometimes new and different meanings,

    Elizabeth

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  8. The story glows within your well chosen words.

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