
On shattered glass
I wrote a face
its canvas unrelentingly,
tattooed eyes
that seemed surprised
and downturned mouth lamenting.
On second pass
I charted space
between my borrowed ribs,
drew blackest hole
where heart would go
breaking several nibs.
On third and last
I tried to trace
unmanifest inside,
the spirit pure
the light obscured
and sketched a broken smile.
©Karen Robiscoe
January 22, 2014 





That last line sums it all up, the sadness of it all. Well written Karen
thanks, hunny. Sometimes the prompts just falls in line with it all. 🙂
They do 🙂
Wow… beautifully expressed, that sadness…
“On shattered glass
I wrote a face
its canvas unrelenting”
I like this whole piece, but this is close to genius.
Guh mornin’ Victor Vee. Really?
That makes me feel great…and is so good to know–which are the heavy hitters.
imagine a small firework show here, because on review I just don’t get the pop I am looking for in these words of thanks. They make MEEE pop…
(oh no! Karen everywhere!!)
You, as a fellow scribe, can prolly imagine the birth of this imagery…that is what is so good about it all–the language. A lot of it is already packaged to go! i just repurpose.
thank you for re-bloggery. 🙂 I am about re-writery this AM–polishing my final go through of my newest short fiction, and then maybe a poy-m (or vice versed)
Reblogged this on carmelbeachblog.