Prisms (Poetry)

[Cordelia]

Prisms​

​

These are the nights​

When I wander into the chattering crowds of anonymity​

And let the incessant sussuration wash me over​

These are the nights​

When I crave the twinkling of low lights and shadows to act as a balm​

Against the dull ache of silence welling deep within me​

​

Surround me with bustle​

Numb me with sound​

​

These are the nights​

When the solitude I welcome becomes the prison I can't escape​

Where reflection and need join as inmates against my will​

These are the nights​

When the blind and questing gazes of the throng perpetually miss​

Me, though I sit center stage and watch their pantomime shows​

​

Endless minds wandering​

A finite loop​

​

These are the nights​

When my feet and heart lead me astray down paths I would never notice​

To sights and sounds too meaningless to register as thought​

These are the nights​

When I am most alone in myself, and ever unable to find​

The right words to set myself free from this broken prism​

​

Refracted memories​

Are not rainbows​

​

These are the nights when I​

Need words the most​

But can't seem​

To find​

Them​

 

[DovahKaal]

Nice! Reminds me of Eliot's work.

 

[Scarheart]

When the solitude I welcome becomes the prison I can't escape
Where reflection and need join as inmates against my will










Your writing is amazing. If you ever publish a poetry book I would gladly purchase it.

 

[Cordelia]

^__^ I had a poem published somewhere when I was in high school. I'm sure the poetry book is floating around still, but I never bothered buying a copy for myself. I almost never dabble in it these days, but I made an exception in this instance. Thank you so much for taking the time to comment, and I'm glad you enjoyed it.

 

[Matt]

Despite not being much of a poetry reader (poetry reminds me of abstract art, which is only good subjectively) I did enjoy this work. Most likely, it is because of the meaning I derived from the words. Whether it was your intention or not, as I read this I literally felt the loathsome emotions that hassle my conscious mind when the voice of my muse is silent. It is a remarkably rare experience for me, but when it happens I am usually troubled deeply.

Thanks for posting this and allowing me several minutes of reflection.