Printable View
Knots unravel in my palm
Weav'd twine loosens the twill
I stand in a road of passing
A veil my only comfort
To speak of love so strange
Like a clay pot made of flowery holes
As if it would nourish life
Like a market place at dawn
The smallest knot is tangled
To leave me unknown
neath my thatched roof
I pray the rain will not fret
in tune with my sorrow.
Beautifully written, Delta. There is such solitude and pain in the last stanza.
You speak of "unravelling" but in doing so ravel so fine a poem!
"I pray the rain will not fret in tune with my sorrow." My favorite line...
Thank you everyone. I have asked also in Final Ending whether these poems still sound like me - I was under sedation when I wrote them and I am curious whether we tap into a place that has a different feel to it.
Reminds me of Emily Dickenson. Very good Delta. :)
As always, it is your strong closing stanza that makes the poem for me!Quote:
Originally Posted by Delta40