After much brouhaha over my poem Survivors, I am reluctantly putting out another one for your perusal, but this one has a request: Tell me what it means to you.
Image via Wikipedia
It is all about you.
Contrary to all of my noon posts for a week, eh? Well, this one truly is about you. When writers show you their creative side, they are offering you the soft spot. You can stroke it gently or sink in a dagger. Either way, the writer gets much-needed input to hone the creative process.
What did you hear?
Communication is rarely an equal opportunity two-way street. More often than not, what we say is interpreted by our recipients into something completely different from what we meant. (Cue game of telephone for giggles.)
Listen with your heart.
Please read the poem with your mind and heart open. Tell me what it says to you.
Interrupted
The hours ebb and flow, though I have
no concept of their passage.
I see only those things I can reach
here in the inky darkness.
Faintly in the distance, I hear the bell,
but daren’t assume it tolls for me.
Yet, still I wonder, if at the other
end you hold my happiness.
Reluctantly, I raise it to my ear,
coaxing only a breathless, timid, “Hello?”
Warmth engulfs my body and soul as
your sultry voice purrs into my ear.
“Hello, my love,” and my eyes close
tightly, conjuring your face before them.
I feel your embrace for a moment before
it fades chilly away without you here.
As I put down the phone, an overwhelming
emptiness replaces your warmth.
My soul so desolate the desert seems
lush, should you choose to compare.
Was I right to torment myself with
what I cannot have?
To punish us both for the precious
time we fleetingly share?
Would only the chance present itself
where we could ride away
With the top down, we would drive
toward the mountain skies,
Stopping only to drink in the natural
beauty, inevitably interrupted
By our own desire, slaked only when
locked in each others’ eyes.
Image via Wikipedia
Author’s Note: If you enjoyed this poem at all, please visit its original home and vote/rate accordingly.
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(c) Ann Marie Dwyer 2011
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grantahelms
/ November 29, 2011Seems like Deja vu. We had this conversation the other day. Seems many thought the same as me. Love you, Grant
annmariedwyer
/ November 29, 2011Devan got the closest to your thoughts on this one, Grant. What are you still doing up at this hour? Red.
Androgoth
/ November 29, 2011Just as I thought, an interesting set of ideas
being offered here, I hope that there will be
some more as peeps call in for a browse
I hope that your day has
been a wicked one Red
Androgoth XXx
annmariedwyer
/ November 29, 2011Truly it has. I think one of my favorite interpretations came to my inbox from a lad who was ashamed of his assessment. I am hoping more of my followers will be passing this along to their krewes for perusal. I am headed to your space for the nightly offering. Hope you are off to a wicked day, my friend, Red. xxx
boobjuice
/ November 30, 2011OK, I am daring myself to guess before reading other readers’ comments. I see a person in a hospital bed, floating in and out of consciousness, separated from loved ones, perhaps away at war? The connection to life is tenuous. Compelling and intriguing. Vivid imagery. Thank you for sharing.
annmariedwyer
/ November 30, 2011I love the different interpretations! And thank you for the compliment, Red. PS There is not a “right” answer…unless you are inside my head