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Crooked Eyes, Crooked Mind
Contributed by
CassandraCain
on
Saturday, 11th November 2006 @ 09:22:33 PM in AEST
Topic:
StoryPoetry
|
I live on the tips of fingers,
With clocks of melting time.
My sister is a tree whisperer,
And all we do is rhyme.
I go to an upside down school,
We send notes by thought.
Our teachers are live bats,
We listened to things they taught.
Skeletons bid us good day,
And the living rest in the ground.
The homes are crooked and bent,
As you pass through our town.
The streets lead to the sky,
And we walk on the bottom.
And spring looks like winter,
And summer, like autumn.
We have no land here,
We just live in black space.
You can see the stars up close,
Dancing with a happy face.
There is an aged, aged woman,
Who sits atop Mount Syllabus.
She is wise among 200 years,
I love the stories she tells us.
As she passes out the gifts,
Some time, some memory.
Others laughter and even drama,
But as she comes to me…
Her gray-silver hair,
It drags on the ground.
Her white, filmy eyes look at me,
And then looks all around.
She bends towards my ear,
And whispers raspily.
“I want to give you a special gift,
One of mystery!”
She hands black box to me,
And waves her hand into space.
A black and checkered path arrives,
One I wish to chase.
I follow it faster than it lays out,
I almost trip and stumble.
But when I see what it leads to,
My stomach twists and rumbles.
A black hooded figure arose,
Right in front of my path.
And when I cry at the sight of it,
All it can do is laugh!
It grabs my hands,
And drags me higher and higher.
How could the old woman do this?
I didn’t see her as a liar!
And then the stars part,
And he sits me down upon one.
He removes his very dark hood,
His face is somewhat solemn.
He is white as snow,
He has just holes for his eyes.
But you can tell he’s looking at me,
Then he begins to cry.
His face begins to take form,
His skin is getting darker.
And soon what forms of this body,
It is my…father.
Daddy, Daddy you’ve woken up!
You’ve come to me at last!
What is my gift, Daddy?
What now is my task?
He smiles gently,
“I give you hope and love.
You will help others as your gift,
Your gift from above.”
I am older now, you see,
My gift is very useful.
And every time I leave my world,
My eyes get a tearful.
I will help you someday, you’ll see.
And the one who was a creeper,
I’ll never soon forget his gift to me,
You must never fear my reaper.
Copyright ©
CassandraCain
... [
2006-11-11 21:22:33]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Crooked Eyes, Crooked Mind
(User Rating: 1 )
by blindchoice on
Saturday, 11th November 2006 @ 10:45:31 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
| the words you chose just wow. the phrasing and ryming just wow. how you described the places just wow. and how you incorperated your family just wow. its an amazing poem. |
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Re: Crooked Eyes, Crooked Mind
(User Rating: 1 )
by Greenbird on
Saturday, 11th November 2006 @ 11:18:20 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
| You use a lot of poetic deivices. I love it. I love to bend the rules to poetry, because I beleive that poetry itself is better when it is different. And I love how you brought the ends together, yet went totally crazy in thought. How it does loops and stunts (metaphorically) yet forms a story. It is very compelling. |
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