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Kindred Spirit
by Anita MacI picture Poetry
bleeding from her lips
going alphabetically
with rhythmic sensuality
from Love to Torment
and back again,
always lingering in the middle somewhere.
She revels
in a library
of her own thoughts and emotions.
She asked me
when there would be More,
completely failing to understand
that Poetry doesn't flow freely
from these hands.
(Nothing does anymore.)
I remember those last Words
as I realized my hands were drying out.
They were
beautiful and...
sad and...
True
as they helplessly watched me Lapse
into bad places.
Or maybe she Understands
all to well;
maybe shes just
living up to the Title.
07/14/2005 Posted on 07/14/2005
Copyright © 2024 Anita Mac
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Ava Blu on 07/14/05 at 09:54 PM aawwwwww you left me with nothing to say! even if this wasn't about me, i would still love it. you already seem to capture me well. we are both chicks purging through poetry. i think it still flows very well from your hands. of course, this is going to my fav list. |
| Posted by Shonda Creemer on 07/15/05 at 02:21 AM Before I came to your author's note ~ it was as if you were speaking of me. Every word is precise and factual. I count it not irony that this was written for Jeanna. We are so much alike. We even share the same birthday. Excellent piece Anita. :) |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 04/11/11 at 05:32 PM Kindred, indeed. There is nothing better than a friend who stands in your corner. *favorite folder |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 04/11/11 at 09:46 PM A fine POTD! I really enjoyed the alphabetical method here, the ebb and flow. Fascinating thinking of poetry as a separate entity. |
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