I circle.  There's no way to enter.  Castle?  Palace?
Thing of beauty.  Woman, but she can't be reached.
She does not speak.  She turns away to order things
She's placed in order previously many times.  She
Stares down at revolving rollers, rapt, autistic,
I surmise, and seemingly walled off from me.
I cannot get inside.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 27 times
Written on 2023-09-17 at 00:00

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urban duck The PoetBay support member heart!
you made me think of the life of Charlie Chaplin who stared at the entrance of palaces for hours when he was still a poor actor...he promised to himself he would be one of them

Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
Hi Lawrence. Your poem reminds me of mine (Cry for Attention). This one of yours though is far more straight forward... and enjoyable.

Blessings, Allen