deepundergroundpoetry.com
Carefully, I pluck the strings.
Tips of calloused flesh strumming your
chords like sweet summer
Lemonade.
Our movie reel: in riddles,
lymericks of accusation
and soulful humming
from her belly.
I'll wait.
I'll stay.
Carefully, I pluck the strings.
Tips of calloused flesh strumming your
chords like sweet summer
Lemonade.
Our movie reel: in riddles,
lymericks of accusation
and soulful humming
from her belly.
I'll wait.
I'll stay.
Carefully, I pluck the strings.
Published 16th Mar 2011
| Edited 17th Mar 2011
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16th Mar 2011 7:26am
16th Mar 2011 7:59am
16th Mar 2011 12:49pm
16th Mar 2011 12:59pm
16th Mar 2011 1:43pm
...nice! Pulled me right in. Especially liking the sweet summer lemonade. :)
17th Mar 2011 11:29am
I love the way you leave it. As if the man never belonged to you and you just continue playing a game you know you'll never win. Nice work, Jade!
Anonymous
17th Mar 2011 11:06pm
How did you manage to publish a poem without a title? Anyway, I like that there is none. It adds to the mystery this poem so skillfully evokes. Aside from one spelling mistake ("limericks") this is almost perfect. I don't think you need the "Summer" before "Lemonade", nor do you need to capitalise that latter word, but that is still my favourite phrase in this entire piece, as well as the movie reel second verse. This is the kind of poem that becomes more real and potent the more you read it.
