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  1. Artistic

    Mysty JPiC Premium VIP Member

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    Shades of Night

    Evening falls and darkness ensues
    yet you sit alone this eve
    with only your thoughts for company.

    "Does she love me, does she not
    where has the passion gone
    and where is her warm body tonight?"


    Does she quiver in another man’s arms
    the way she did in yours?
    Does she feel the anguish in your heart?

    Do her lips soften and let his take possession?
    Does she suckle the taste of him from his tongue,
    feel his pulse quicken as she guides his hands?

    Your thoughts erode and you being to cry
    this eve, in the darkness of your tomb,
    yes tomb of self pity that you earned.

    Does she love you, does she not?
    How can you have so quickly forgotten?
    She died and left you behind to miss her

    in the shades of night where no
    voice is found to fill the hollows
    inside your empty heart and mind.


    ©2007 Sandra Elizabeth Johnson


    Posted By Mysty | Apr 15, 2007
    #1

  2. Cool

    nomadicrhymer JPiC Premium VIP Member

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    Mysty...such a sad tale...a frequently heard weeping of the heart over a lost love...very well expressed in Shades of Night. :yes:

    Nomad

    Nikos Tselepides New Member

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    This is another good poem, Mysty.

    It is sad, as Nomadicrhymer pointed out--esp. as both partners seem to have lost in the end.

    I would not have italicised the one stanza, but that is of course your decision, and you should keep what you think is best.

    The words are carefully and artfully chosen, and it must have required a lot of work to get it done as good as this.
    :sign_different:
    What follows now has nothing to do with the poem, but is thoughts of mine on general issues:

    The deadends of love affairs are hard to stomach, and many poets write about them.
    Their poems, put together, are many, or rather too many over the past 90 years, and have given rise to critics calling "love disillusionment" poems "trite". Some of the finer poets who still wanted to write about disillusionment from love in such a way that critics did not call their poems trite and publishers published them resorted to sinister-sounding poems with more or less the same message but covered in unusual language and images.
    Chief amongst them is the Californian poetess Diane Wakowski, and Vi Gale and Adrienne Rich--all women.

    Here is a section from a Wakowski poem, RED BANDANNA:

    I see
    you come in the door wearing it
    and sigh to myself, knowing there will be more snorting
    and stomping and unlike Hemingway I couldn't
    care less about the running of the bulls,
    don't see you as a challenge
    but a mistake,
    a middle class man overwhelmed
    by this tough Marlborough world you have been
    washed with
    through TV, and maybe even you think you recognize in me
    the tough Western sheriff,
    maybe you think
    you want to shoot it out,
    you quick
    and me dead.

    ( the poem continues to express her disappointments in similar fashion).

    From another poem, THIS BEAUTIFUL BLACK MARRIAGE:

    This marriage could not change me.
    Could not change my life.
    Nor is it that different from any other marriage.
    They are all filled with desert journeys,
    with Isis who hold us in her terror,
    with Horus who will not let us see
    the parts of his body joined
    but must make us witness them in dark corners,
    in bloody confusion;
    and yet this black marriage,
    as you call it,
    has its own beauty.
    As the black cat with its rich fur
    stretched and gliding smoothly down the tree trunks.
    Or the shining black obsidian
    pulled out of mines and polished to the cat's eye.
    Black as the neat seeds of a watermelon,
    or a pool of oil, prisming the light.
    Do not despair this "black marriage."
    You must let the darkness out of your own body;
    acknowledge it
    and let it enter your mouth,
    taste the historical darkness openly.
    Taste your own beautiful death,
    see your own photo image,
    as x-ray,
    Bone bleaching inside the blackening
    flesh


    The sinister imagery is more evident in the 2nd poem, an earlier one of hers when she was younger and sex was more important. The first poem is at a later age, and the words have become softer somehow, but the technique still shows.


    I wish to thank Mysty again for a wonderful poem.

    Cheers
  3. Artistic

    PaintedDiary JPiC Mentor

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    Dear Mysty,

    This is another great write. The sadness, and the longing, makes me almost whimper. That was the power of you skillfully crafting this piece. The poignant nature of the poems speaks for itself. You ae quite the poet dear Mysty, and quite extraordinary with the pen. Thank you for sharing this with us. :bravothanx:

    {{{{~~~***KIM***~~~}}}}:(

    Olga New Member

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    Beautiful poem


    Posted By Olga | Apr 16, 2007
    #5
  4. Artistic

    Mysty JPiC Premium VIP Member

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    Dear Nikos ... :blush: Thank you ..... and You too Kim...... Thank You ..

    nice to meet you Olga and thank You too : ) not sure if this is finished form of poem yet.... it needs some work I think.... but we'll see . *hugs*

    Mysty


    Posted By Mysty | Apr 16, 2007
    #6

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