all the world its players
by Leah Laiben
from a poorly written script
the best of what i had at the time.
sweet and salty
about, to, and from...
but i have sealed my lips.
let's call it a day-
put our feelings away
on that shelf
there will always be tomorrow,
don't you worry.
but now we find tomorrow dead on the floor
hurt quite as much as
a mute tongue.
Posted on 08/08/2009
Copyright © 2021 Leah Laiben
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Jo Halliday on 08/08/09 at 02:23 PM|
Simply extraordinary: the structure, the way you have played with language here, the difficult subject matter itself! Hats off!
|Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 08/08/09 at 03:03 PM|
|Posted by Ashok Sharda on 08/08/09 at 03:47 PM|
Tomorrow is as dead as yesterday, being its projection. But all the effects turn into causes for yet another effect. We all tend to live our yesterdays every day.Nice.
|Posted by Kim Thevenot on 03/10/10 at 05:02 AM|
love the last line, it is harder not to say than not to hear.
|Posted by Amie Golda on 03/10/10 at 02:34 PM|
This was brilliant. "that shelf called time" such great imagery and metaphors. Well done! A well deserved POTD.