Love 2

2.

Love is a blustery fellow.
He takes me on carnival
rides, swings me through
air like a doll. I'm a doll
with strings; I'm a puppet.
I fly, I fall, I twitch.

Love is tall and thick
and loud. He orders me
about. I obey. I obey
for the joy of it, for
the thrill. Up we go,
and down again. When

Love leaves, he slams
the door. The window crackles
and breaks. For months,
for years, I gather slivers
of glass from the floor. Broken
glass. Yellow, blue. Red.

This is part of a series I'm working on. Part 1 is here.

Comments

[paisley]

both parts are really good.. i love the arms/ legs thing you have going on in one... and in this one,, he has become somewhat an abusive man... but the kind i would probably end up with none the less....

[Tumblewords]

The last stanza brings back memories - a particularly poignant choice of words.

[Cathy]

This is getting good. It will be interesting to see how this goes.

I better get some my new poems up, can't let you have all the fun now.

[Crafty Green Poet]

Very blustery poem....

[AnnieElf]

" . . . I gather slivers of glass from the floor . . ." Deeply meaningful. Even after 35 years, bits a glass still creep in. No doubt about it - this was my most long-learned and well-learned lesson. Well put.

[Frances Sbrocchi]

Full of energy, images that have great appeal for the remembering of youth. fran

[anni]

all parts of this poem have been great reads both separately and together.

(i'm adding all the poetry thursday readers to my blogroll)