she was never a queen

i'm no longer the
frenzied, manic
poetess
flaunting her scepter
of
terrible
beauty.

my words are now
small, frail

life has
been unkind to me
and my poetry
has become

fleeting whispers
like a moth
like a baby caterpillar
the tiniest
thing

print so small
like i can barely
touch the page
because i'm afraid it
will go away

and i'll always be
a silent-film mute

a clara bow
with
an empty home
and
rough days
in a small
apartment

when forced to write
my pen
looks
more like a knife

instead of the feather
i want it
to be




Poetry by anguisette
Read 966 times
Written on 2008-09-28 at 06:38

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liz munro The PoetBay support member heart!
This is so...

..SPEECHLESS

~L.~
2009-08-13


Marie Cadavieco The PoetBay support member heart!
How life has ground you under her terrible heel...that you have to whisper instead of shout, not writing what you want but only what is forced from you. I was very moved by the thoughts here which are expressed with vivid metaphor. The free form you have used adds to the stark reality of your situation.
2009-05-22


CC
very well written poem with stunning imagery.
2009-02-22



Excellent, pregnant imagery!
2009-02-21



your poetry is delicate. and beautiful though. theres a fragility in it which is beautiful..
2008-10-10


gemma
the imagery is wonderful :) i love it x
2008-10-01


Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Your poetry is beautiful and a pleasure to read

Elle x
2008-09-30