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Poetry_GHS

Page history last edited by PBworks 18 years, 9 months ago

Grey House Shell

 

            I.
            
            The skies were grey the day
            A white veil hung on my dresser
            The flowers on the table were freshly-picked
            From the garden, deprived of its roses
            The glass is still half-full
            
            A morning sliver of moon peaked through
            The silver scrying bowl of the fortune teller
            She wished me to smile and carry her gold tooth
            For luck, in the coming trials, she said
            I did not understand her, and threw the tooth
            Away in the garden, at first light.
            
            
            II.
            
            The ring embraces my stout finger like a cat's tail
            Warm and alive, your golden eyes
            Charming and distracting me from beastly jaws
            These talons and claws you hide from me
            With silky whispers...
            
            I wished for diamonds and you gathered suns
            And placed them in your purse, priceless stars you said
            And spoke to me of wealth, but love is kept
            Like a trinket, together with jangling coins
            I do not know you, only your money...
            
            You kept me in a cage, a white dove
            Whose wings are clipped with silver trappings
            My heart is frail and small like a bird
            With a broken voice, I cry
            But silence rings like a deathknell
            In the mansion we once called home.
            
            
            III.
            
            There are whispers in the corridors
            I cannot imagine them to be ghosts
            What haunts me most is my own soul
            Full of half-empty dreams
            
            Where is the light? Draw the curtains please, Maria.
            The Virgin looks after me and my own
            I pray, I pray
            But in truth, I am already anticipating the worst.
            
            
            IV.
            
            The fortune teller has returned for her tooth
            I go into the garden and find it in the clutches
            Of a little bird slain by the housecat
            I frown at this...waste...injustice...
            
            I envy my tears their escape
            The old woman carried them away in her worn thumb
            She  came to tell me that the moon had cried too,
            In her silver scrying bowl, the night before my wedding day.
            
            I gave her the tooth and told her to leave
            Maria handed me a glass of water in a silver tray
            I laughed mirthlessly, the glass is full yet empty
            Empty...and I lock myself in the house all day.
            
            
            
            Where is the light? Draw the curtains please, Maria.
            The Virgin looks after me and my own
            I pray, I pray
            But in truth, I am already anticipating the worst.
            
            There are whispers in the corridors
            I cannot imagine them to be ghosts
            What haunts me most is my own soul
            Full of half-empty dreams
            
            Love is a wasteland, and I am now an empty shell.
            

 

 

 

 

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