by Laura Doom
slice and dice sordid detail
spread futures, wage wars
bearing prosthetic arms
as their literal metaphors.
chase their tales to make bail
trade insults, light fires
in suburban backyards
for their liberal admirers.
Between these extremes
the cenotaph to dreams
ravaged, ruptured and deranged
by the constant wind of change
whose inspiration blows its kiss
from stasis to metastasis
nescience to denial;
demented muse, I shiver in your smile.
Author's Note: [yawn]
Monuments/memorials: to someone/something, so that should also apply to cenotaphs?
Do nerds have tails? Only in the land of dead metaphors. Tales are more topical [skin-deep application]
Posted on 04/20/2018
Copyright © 2020 Laura Doom
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 04/21/18 at 03:06 PM|
Fun read, eclectic ride. As for your comment on my letter, true, many (unaffected) aren't listening, but here in Ottawa, ask the employees who aren't getting their pay-cheques.
|Posted by Rob Littler on 04/25/18 at 03:19 AM|
And where are those dreams really buried, eh? Why do all the good ones skip from ignorance to denial? Let's not grieve
|Posted by Glenn Currier on 04/26/18 at 10:50 PM|
The lines that hit me the strongest are: "the cenotaph to dreams / ravaged, ruptured and deranged" So much in that last stanza to love. I like the way the first two stanzas contrast. I write poem that have contrasting stanzas and I sometimes wonder if anybody gets it. Thanks so much for this gem, Laura. So good to again read your work.
|Posted by Clara Mae Gregory on 04/27/18 at 02:13 PM|
I love this superb piece. You never fail in delighting me with your amazing and unique way of expression your thoughts through poetry. I hope there will continue to be more. You make this Pathetic Place sing. :)
|Posted by Scott Utley on 04/30/18 at 12:41 AM|
Laura, I step away from my desk for what could not be more than a moment, when I return, I find you playing tag with shooting stars; goosebumps all over my being. Coming home is such a great thrill, but to find you master at the helm, doesn't surprise me, yet leaves me breathless anyway.