take this hope and hold it like you would a rose
a stem of thorns, take care on where your fingers close
like stains of red, a love that's left all petals torn
of prayers spent on fleeting scents and dreams unborn

to wait the whims, a hundred sins on letters lost
an air bereft of redolently cast-out thoughts
elate a hymn, inhale the din of breaths on pause
ensnare inept words bluntly wept by lines now lost

expect the worst, hope for a whisper
"pluck me now or wait 'til never"

rake the winds to catch a whiff of pasts and prose
mistakes once hidden deep in rifts of Lethe's notes
inspire the wine to bathe the lies of time retold
retire the mind that longed to find delirium's hold

to trace the green upon her skin; a flower's ghost
with hair once seen as leaves dancing on summer shows
when crimson blooms, the bush will swoon to red's disease
like hearts consumed by seconds strewn without release

taste this truth as sweet as lips unkissed and bare
of nectars dripping rhapsodic upon nowhere
accept the last saccharine trance to glance her face
the inch, the vast untraced distance of placid days

define the masquerade of wasting memories
imply the smiles unpaid by stoic revelries
desire a gift, design the grift to steal the grace
thus go and sift through pollen drifts but stay unfazed

expect the worst, hope for a whisper
"pluck me now or wait 'til never"

keep paradise until tonight, until dawn
escaping sighs will play the light, languid and wan
as breaths deny the lungs that try to stay alive
shall all these die like seeds untried on soils and mire

if not for wisps of fading bliss, forlorn the yearns
all but a glimpse of emptiness is what you'll earn
and evermore drown in euphoric blind repose
so take this hope and hold it like you would a rose

expect the worst, hope for a whisper
"pluck me now, i'll wait forever"

Humbert   Humbert wrote
on 2/8/2010 9:07:31 PM
ok so the junkie in me gets off on this stuff. The rhythm, the sound, the verbal assault, it's like nothing else I've seen on this site. I like poetry that demands that it be recited. I feel like I've been taken on a ride. I'd publish this in my zine if I had one. I'll come back to read this again some time.

Michele   Michele wrote
on 9/18/2009 11:23:28 PM
Though I agree with Frederic to an extent, this is very skillfully written--especially like the rhymes within the lines.

frederic   frederic wrote
on 9/18/2009 7:58:46 PM
I like the first stanza in which you exhort us to take hold of what may be an elusive hope. But when you try to develop that theme in the succeeding lines, your words come off too forced, pompous even. You've got to stay with the note of hope in trouble, which you nearly do. For example, in stanza 2, what "whims" am I waiting? The next phrase switches to the topic of "sins" on letters. Whose letters? Next, the "air is bereft of redolently cast off thoughts." Why bereft, if you're holding out hope to the reader? Why do I want "inept words"? I just don't get it. Too much is piled on, linguistically. You must re-write. The repeated refrain is appropriate, however.

writing ix
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