Tuesday, March 4, 2008

Pure White

Pure White

White pure mascara thinly lined looking downward, lying in a fertile position.
Whispering soft intimate words, settle expressions, nor happy or sad, barren, staring at open hands.
Pacing vast raptures mirrored through veiled masquerades, teardrops falling on crystal ponds.
False pretenses and eternal lies, but hidden truths, revealed in a mystical but trivial glare.

Vivianne Summers

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

BRAVA!!! Here we get not only a poem, but also some clarity. She tortures herself with her deceptions, yet she manages not to face herself head on. Instead, she writes poetry and tries to tell the world her secret, wrapped in riddles.

Very, very best one yet!

P.S. I'll write you more. I don't want to include the personal things I see in this.

Anonymous said...

I'm sorry for seeing this blog post only recently. It's very good and full of descriptive detail. It takes bravery to face one's feelings and more bravery to write about them. I commend you on your honesty.

Do you mean a "fertile" position, as you wrote, or do you mean a "fetal" position? I don't know what a fertile position is, but people lie in fetal positions like babies in the womb, all curled up.