Holding the World
Out away from me
On a bit of string
We passed it back and forth
He, Death
And I,
Nothing so grand
As God or Life
Or even Nothing,
Only myself.
The World swayed
A pendulum
Waiting for the moment
When one of us
Would drop it.
Out away from me
On a bit of string
We passed it back and forth
He, Death
And I,
Nothing so grand
As God or Life
Or even Nothing,
Only myself.
The World swayed
A pendulum
Waiting for the moment
When one of us
Would drop it.
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2 comments:
Hi Georgia,
I am impressed you are continuing on with your experiment. You are true to your word and your obvious love of the poetry craft and it is most commendable.
I love the rhythm in this poem, it feels like a pendulum or perhaps a back-and-forth volley -- As I read it I got this interesting image in my head of someone playing totem tennis with Ingmar Bergman, a weird post-modern update on "The Seventh Sign"
Thanks for taking the time to comment, half the fun of writing poetry is seeing how other people interpret your work. That's actually the image I was going for, so I'm glad it came across.
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