Poem - MAG Poetry Prize 2010
Tryst
by
Llandrindod Wells, UK
This poem does not stand before you.
Au contraire -
It lounges in rumpled lassitude,
Replete, spent, at least for the moment,
From frenetic tumblings
With the filter readers.
True, this involvement is but a brief skirmish,
Redolent of adolescent adventures
Into the unknown.
Swift, yet intensely sweet
In their same corner of
Longing and reluctance.
All or nothing decided
On a look or a word.
Futures made or not made
On a whim or a dare.
What were we looking for?
What are they looking for?
The, “This is it”?
The, “This is the one”?
As already told,
This poem sprawls the crumpled page,
But with a few strokes of an experienced eye,
It may be enticed to reveal depths yet undiscovered,
If the finger that follows the line
Knows when to
linger…
Knows what to circle…
Knows where to stay…
Added: 13.04.2010
09.05.2010
Well managed conceit. Terrific crescendo - 'knows when/knows what/knows where...'
12.05.2010
trying to provoke sympathy by direct directing to the listener