Shared with:http://magpietales.blogspot.com/
On mask worn Identity on spinning wheels
To give false notions, emotion
Thorns on narrow roads walked on
Telescopes with blurry visions
Compass spinning with no thought
Of direction, purpose, sequence
Giving way to none on blockade
And the wind is on strike
Even the lightest feather knows no breeze
The elephant in the room, chasing his tail
Braking chalices and china plates in the process
No one knows what roads to take, delimma of actions
To assert whether this is reality or a dream
But some times, when ordinary gives way to surreal
Life can be stranger than fiction
Imitating art, imitating life, imitating art
I am left without a voice when angels falls
the last stanza was brilliant - loved it
ReplyDeleteLife is stranger than fiction, certainly is. It is a paradox but turns out true as in your verse. Brilliant take!
ReplyDeleteI agree with Jo. The last stanza reminded me of a painting with a photo/painting in it, and the photo/painting was the photo/painting, and it kept telescoping down until the image was microscopic...
ReplyDeleteNicely done - and I think Sioux made a great point about things tapering down. Just like the chin of the mask!
ReplyDeletePoignant reminders... stunning last stanza.
ReplyDelete