A Poem Sleeps
guess the book after guessing the writer
Behind the bridal veil, a lost look,
Ill at ease smile, yellowish teeth.
It’s June and I’m a February-poem. I hold the tail of the dress,
Death is the groom.
Tired after this ceremony, I fall asleep.
I wake up in a book whose pages are wheels,
preparing a church for another wedding,
a church that has 28 closed doors.
Athens, 2006 – 2019
© ifyouplease 2021
Views: 253
You’ve got me! I thought perhaps it was going to be from a Athenian legend of one sort, but the final line just perplexes me. (*scratches head and bemoans his ignorance*)
second strophe is the writer born in February and died in June, last line: the wedding never happened and Death became the bridegroom much later (yellowish teeth). The ceremony is his entire work, the common fate getting a hand on him too, there I hid the answer or should I say key, the reason I wrote this poem which is probably an internal monologue.
Charles Dickens, Great Expectations.
OMG. This is very abstract and dark. The black and white pic illustrates it perfectly! The first lines reminded me of Miss Haversham right enough. It has a very disconcerting air, reminiscent of many of my dreams. There is a lot here.Very symbolic and the last line could speak for the state of the church today. A failed institution with no fire in its belly, that has submitted meekly to corrupt government lockdowns. Locking out all the faithful who should have been able to find solace there, as the world sways over the precipice of totalitarianism and genocide. I cannot… Read more »
there are no leaders, the politicians simply arrange as humanely as possible because those who really rule countries have no feelings.
I don’t know if this is the best choice and if they are simply trying to survive and knowing they can be traced and found, unlike the ruthless oligarchs, do it ‘philanthropically’, the blatant truth is we the people were always alone with our Great Expectations with our ill at ease smile and our Pips and Estellas, politicians are the oligarchs’ janitors and we are the chattel
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