Mortal

by sibyllene   Nov 29, 2007


Captured in my small scribblings
you think you glimpse some goddess
granting her sly, lush smirk to the world-
white arms curved like swans necks, you think,
perhaps, this lady knows- perhaps
she is the echo you pursue,
perhaps that wink is briliance, perhaps.

but, poor aspiring soul, how wrong you'd be-
my countenance unseen, these words
smooth over flaws and follies, I slip you
warm drunkenness, and in your smooth and jolly
inbibing you think you see... but no, if you would see...

me-
more hind than Artemis, fleeing from light,
stupid soft gazes
long legs that give me
stumbles and skids, two left feet
not endearing after the first few times.

Course habits, flaky questions
pouting quiet tantrums

all the ugly pretty small things of my life

I think I'd disappoint.

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Latest Comments

  • 16 years ago

    by abracadabra

    Oh deary...didn't you once use a word like zitto to comment on one of my poems? I'd like to use that word here. Except I reckon we should make up our own word, so we can feel special. How about sabbyllene?

    This poem was sabbyllene for me. Being frightened or saddened by the heights of the pedestal, and questioning its real worth (and thereby your real worth and truth) are very familiar notions to me. But I don't believe you- I very much doubt you'd "dissapoint"!
    I loved your clumsy and halting style, and your spelling mistakes- I don't know whether they were intentional or not...I'm inclined to think the latter (unless you are fooling us, ha), but leave them. It suits the feeling of undisguised vulnerability in this piece. Enchanting use of words and their images, natural flow, all as usual.

    Well, well. Write something crap, for crap's sake. I'm sick of praising you all the time.

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