#2 stanzas

[verse-voyager]

So lead me through the verses, Where our spirits intertwine, In this rewritten hymn Where love is divine Our cathedral of rebellion Against the judgment and the hate, In the melody of love We find our fate

[pandering-abstract-lies]

it is still quite possible to be both seen and invisible,

out in the sun without screen and still burned by the moon at night

[yung-bruhh]

and so i sleep

to escape this hell

i go to dream

in a different realm

please end this

the never ending emptiness 

let me fall into

the darkest abyss

-a.n

[brokowskii]

Every tear is an exorcism of the forever rot in our heads. We are of a dark mechanism like shadows left in their steads. Plagued by bearers of true agony' feeling false before their gaze. So blessed by a pox epiphany revealing more of me to raze.

[sarumansorkorphanage]

Layla (hommage to Eric Clapton ft. Derek and the Dominos)

Layla! My world is full of sound

Layla! It’s everywhere around

Layla! Darling please don’t end this ecstasy.

Layla! The air I breathe is you

Layla! Give myself up you

Layla! All my life I was blind, now I can see.

[paintingpoems]

“A Certain Lady” by Dorothy Parker

Dorothy Parker was an American poet and journalist best known for her biting wit. Later in life, she became a founding member of the Algonquin Round Table, which was an informal gathering of writers, known for its presence in witty remarks and social commentary. While she was revered for her professional career, her personal life was not as picturesque as critical reviews about her. She fought depression and anxiety throughout her life, culminating in her attempting suicide multiple times. 

Oh, I can smile for you, and tilt my head, And drink your rushing words with eager lips, And paint my mouth for you a fragrant red, And trace your brows with tutored finger-tips. When you rehearse your list of loves to me, Oh, I can laugh and marvel, rapturous-eyed. And you laugh back, nor can you ever see The thousand little deaths my heart has died. And you believe, so well I know my part, That I am gay as morning, light as snow, And all the straining things within my heart You'll never know. Oh, I can laugh and listen, when we meet, And you bring tales of fresh adventurings, -- Of ladies delicately indiscreet, Of lingering hands, and gently whispered things. And you are pleased with me, and strive anew To sing me sagas of your late delights. Thus do you want me -- marveling, gay, and true, Nor do you see my staring eyes of nights. And when, in search of novelty, you stray, Oh, I can kiss you blithely as you go .... And what goes on, my love, while you're away, You'll never know. 

The entirety of this poem is written from the perspective of a woman speaker who acts like a person attending a masquerade ball. Rather than revealing her visceral feelings to the man she speaks of in the poem, she decisively embarks on a frustrating journey of hiding “the thousand little deaths [her] heart has died.” She learns how to play the part by using expressive, flirtatious body language rather than furrowing over her heartache, cultivating an insightful look into the speaker’s theory of what romantic relationships should be like. 

As the poem progresses into the second stanza, she continues to emphasize this idea of burying her true emotions by playing the part of a good woman by encouraging the man to speak of his other female conquests and “of lingering hands, and gently whispered things.” Her ability to do this results in the man being pleased with her and thus still desiring her. However, he is not aware that her actions are not indicative of her emotions. This creates irony that would not be evident if the speaker were the man instead of the woman. By using the perspective of the woman as the speaker, Parker captures wit and irony that encompasses the meaning of the poem. Despite all of her flirtations and antics, the speaker is not able to get the man’s irrevocable attention. This serves as a social commentary for romantic relationships in general. Metaphorically and quite literally, putting on a mask in front of others will not result in happiness in the same way that not staying loyal to a partner will not result in a long-lasting bond. 

[nightmask]

The Quiltmaker

Does she know what I do under the sheets

Her hands of scottish descent are mine now

The fast clotting blood, a scab to pick at

disappointment is my oldest son, Gone

is she like him, is that why Tom watches

come to me, I'll sing to you Clementine

I'll watch him hold you, with his hollow legs

I watch the white petals as he tells her, Do not speak of it

Facing the doorway, the youngest of my tribe

history makes him drink as does everything

A pattern of longing. I'll be gone soon

Will she grow up with an axe in her hand

plaid will protect you, A pattern of me