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FROM LANGUID LIPS
Though the invitation is ominous . . . .
Your emotions frozen with fear float
Like snowflakes from languid lips.
Aimless longings which would caress me
Speak to me in hushed undertones
From within a spider’s web of deceit
You awaiting with tangled thoughts
Inviting me to a fatal, final banquet . . . .
Like a lost, lonely child I acquiesce.
This poem. really, is like
This poem. really, is like one of Robert Aickman's best stories---eerie, daunting, and with a clear foreground, but a vagule unspoken background. The acquiescence of the lost, lonely child, like one of Aickman's concluding lines is, acquiecence to . . . what?
Starward
A delicious poem stirs the
A delicious poem stirs the mind with fascination. Sue.
A great review of my poem by a great poet.
Stephen
interesting. morbid &
interesting. morbid & depressed...yet unmistakenly mysterious
TY
Stephen