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
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.