“Love is the master key that opens the gates of happiness.” - Oliver Wendell Holmes
Magpie Tales has provided the image above. Followers of her blog are invited to write a creative piece stimulated by her prompt. Here is my poem related to this image of a Charleston door lock.
The Island and the Garden
Alone.
None talks to me,
None to listen.
Untouched, unkissed
Unloved, unyearned for
I am that island
That no man is.
None talks to me,
None to listen.
Untouched, unkissed
Unloved, unyearned for
I am that island
That no man is.
Alone.
None searches for me
None has found me.
Unseen, unlooked for,
Unwon and undiscovered.
I am that island
That still holds its secret.
None searches for me
None has found me.
Unseen, unlooked for,
Unwon and undiscovered.
I am that island
That still holds its secret.
Alone.
None needs me
None cares for me.
Unused, unfrutiful
Untended and unhappy
I am a secret garden
Amidst the desert sands.
None needs me
None cares for me.
Unused, unfrutiful
Untended and unhappy
I am a secret garden
Amidst the desert sands.
Alone.
None takes my key
None opens wide my door.
Unopened, unexposed
Unsearched, unsolved.
I still cling to my mystery,
All alone.
None takes my key
None opens wide my door.
Unopened, unexposed
Unsearched, unsolved.
I still cling to my mystery,
All alone.
I really enjoyed your thoughts - but couldn't help feeling that, as 'none' is 'not one', the part of the verb you have following feels uncomfortable? Maybe occasional switch to 'no one' ?
ReplyDeleteSo,
None talk to me,
no one listens...
or even
'none talk to me, none listen' is easier on the tongue, and the ear...
So melancholic but beautifully composed =)
ReplyDeleteI am
http://mindlovemisery.wordpress.com/
Love your words.
ReplyDelete“I still cling to my mystery, all alone.” Solitude is not necessarily loneliness – although you words indicate it might be.
I like the secret garden (in my mind), it is mine and mine alone. I allow no-one entry – although its door is never locked.
That said, solitude sought and savoured is very different from solitude, loneliness, isolation gained (and unwanted) by an inability to communicate our needs, an inability to belong..
No-one is a true island, not even me – she who has decided if she was the last person surviving on this Earth of ours – she wouldn’t mind. And taking this further and off on a tangent – if dogs survived too – I would kill myself – couldn’t cope with that!)
Thanks for making me think.
Anna :o]
The repeating lines make it all the more chilling...
ReplyDeleteSuch a sad poem, Nicholas...
ReplyDeleteBeautiful but so very sad...
ReplyDelete