March 11, 2007

  • The room is sharp from cold
    My breath the only fog
    And my mind clear

    The violin sounds high, piercing
    Playing its strings like my heart
    I breathe heavy

    I can remember the beat, the warmth, the wine,
    Muddled Italian words
    Drifting in my daze

    And I want to cry out!
    There is this emptiness, a moan
    But I merely hold the vibrato

    I refuse to acknowledge this emotion!
    As if naming it would increase its hold on me
    Its too soon, too fast, too strong, too intense...

    The eyes of my heart are squinting in early morning sun
    Awakened from a long hibernation
    Devoid of skipping beats

    My heart peers cautiously out
    There is a strange world about me
    And this feeling...

    The entirety of my life has waited on a feeling
    And in my heart's slumber I felt nothing
    Deaf to the alluring music

    The violin stops short
    Like I force myself in the consideration of this feeling
    Only time can explain

Comments (1)

  • I like this. It is differnt than most things I have read than yours.

    "The eyes of my heart are squinting in early morning sun
    Awakened from a long hibernation"

    "And in my heart's slumber I felt nothing
    Deaf to the alluring music"

    Beautifully said. I love the use of words. Your poetry inspires me.

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