Sunday 15 November 2009

Silvered Tongue


Another poem which grew suddenly after I 'heard' the whispering...





Silvered Tongue - 15 Nov 09

Whispering
Caressing my ear
With her voice,
Playing with memories
That should be left alone

Maybe

A long forgotten door
Creaks open
And her light shines in,
I had forgotten the way
She could manipulate me

Untrue

The dreams she created
For me...and her...
Were only that,
No real substance
I didn't care

Liar

She knew the power
Of her words upon me
But still she spoke and whispered,
Little words controlling me
But I am immune now

Wrong

Like a puppet
I dance to her command
Smooth words uttered carelessly,
Pulling my strings
To make me move

Tears





I swear that some of my poems come from other lives - I have known several people who fit this poem in parts but none of them are in my current life
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4 comments:

  1. Luna15 November 2009 at 15:32

    What a dance you weave :)
    Bob Dylan and Arlo Guthrie both say that creativity is a stream and we are either just watching it go by, or fishing but unaware or totally swimming in the current. Somedays barely a nibble, others great ideas, and then the masterpieces. The Universe opens when we are facing the right way.
    Thanks for opening and sharing this..I lived those words for so many years..I have no doors in the corridor of my mind, just curtains, billowing in the breeze.

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  2. Ainsley15 November 2009 at 15:49

    Thank you, that is a lovely comment - I really enjoy swimming deep in the current, there are some fascinating things in here. Curtains are good, more difficult to hide things behind...

    Ainsley ♥

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  3. the Hillbilly Rose15 November 2009 at 16:19

    All I can say is WOW !
    applause on this one
    powerful

    Laura

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  4. Ainsley15 November 2009 at 16:44

    Thank you Laura - WOW is so eloquent...really - thank you.

    Ainsley ♥

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