in vino veritas

grace for hearts and heartache, and the messages not written
cold and wrapped in silence as the caryatids sing
falsely i’ve been painted ashen shades, for all my souls worth
register reactions and you ask what did i bring

life itself my gift as i whispered from behind you
eagerly you sought out a path through all my lies
never seen before by those so undeserving
lie back and let me rain soft kisses on your eyes

oh but you are sharp, catching all my little fictions
your mother never warned you ’bout anyone like me
wasted choices, damn your eyes, made to be forgotten
what i have to offer is never given free

take a little sip of the heady wine of knowledge
made of forbidden fruit for those as bright as you
once you have the taste, you’ll find you are addicted
i swear that it’s the worst way that i could punish you

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  1. This is powerful. The last line of the third stanza is so eloquent and the entire poem is like a deep and slow … purring. πŸ™‚

    • When reciting it to myself I felt it had a kind of inexorability like a tide flowing in. But then it was written so that each verse flowed into the next, whilst, hopefully, having it’s own statement to make. πŸ˜€

      • yes! that’s it! it IS like a flow, like waves, or a tango, lol. and each movement or wave, to take your image, is different and unique.
        and reading it again the the tone moves from intimacy in the second stanza to the almost scolding tone and then the gentle conciliation of the last.
        A tango, yes. The music is there.
        πŸ™‚ πŸ™‚ πŸ™‚

        • I read it slightly differently than you do, I think., with the first verse I was trying to set the mood for the piece, I would describe it’s tone as sententious perhaps. The second I see not as intimate, but insinuating, trying to creep into her affections. The third is pique and petulance, when that doesn’t work. And the fourth, that’s just vindictive, he can’t have what he wants so he does the cruelest thing he could imagine, strip away all her illusions, like telling a small child there’s no Father Christmas. 😈

  2. damommza

     /  December 5, 2011

    I like the tone of this one as it shows the progression of a doomed courtship. He pretends to be something he’s not and, as that doesn’t work, he slowly unmasks and you see him for what he really is. First cloying and pretentious with a hint of menace then, as she is unmoved, (and uninterested) he changes tack slightly then finally reveals himself and small and spiteful. Excellent. Musta been the pumpkin cookie at the teepartee! πŸ˜€ πŸ˜€

  3. *smiles*
    yes, I see now what you were getting at. I think, tho, like so many good poems, this one could be interpreted from several points of view… and tangos, while always passionate, can be cruautΓ© dΓ©guisΓ©e… πŸ™‚

    • I’ve had this conversation with damommza before, all readings are valid, (just mine valider [is valider a word?] than anybody elses) πŸ˜†


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