The Lantern, The Muse

by JaneDoeWrites   Dec 23, 2013


Your scent
is like a cigarette smoke film
glazing the walls of my bedroom,
where I hurriedly peel off the paint
strip by strip to avoid facing the
"I miss you"
side of love.

Your
guitar-picking fingers
once played connect the dot
with the constellations of freckles
that clouded the skies of my skin,
when our kisses were shooting stars
that inaudibly whispered
all we wished for.

Inexplicable,
the way your love
manages still to venture and inspire
the movements of my hand as I write,
as if yours were ghostly placed over mine
speaking to me through ink
from a distance,
from afar.

My heart
will always be hung
next to your front porch light
illumniating the path back east
if you ever decide to open that door
and walk with me
once more.

3


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Latest Comments

  • 2 years ago

    by - Mr. Darcy

    Hi,

    to say I am impressed with this poem is a serious understatement. It is quite honestly one of my favorites that I have ever read on here. For that reason I will add it to my list to read again and again.

    A poem of lost love, and that awful feeling of a heart that is aching with sadness, desperately wanting/ needing a medicinal balm which only being reunited can bring. So, in the meantime sad revelry fills the void.

    Beautiful, truly beautiful!

    Michael

  • 3 years ago

    by Dancing Rivers

    For now I'm going to keep it short and sweet cause I'm all teary eyed and can barely see my screen.your words pulled at strings in my heart that I was hoping I'd hidden well, they bring back memories of a love I once had,I guess I'm not the only one haunted by the spirit of beautiful lost love...

  • 3 years ago

    by Jenni Marie

    Judging comment:

    Your first verse made me think of the times we have lost a former romantic partner and how we try to avoid their side of the bed, because it reminds us of how it was theirs, how it was routine, how we came to expect it, became accustomed to it and never thought that it would change. And what I love, is that you made me think of this without phrasing it in a cliche way: you mentioned the walls instead of the bed as so many do, which made it original as soon as you started writing.

    "when our kisses were shooting stars
    that inaudibly whispered
    all we wished for."

    I absolutely adore this. The imagery, feeling and emotion here is so intense , and I've never heard/seen anyone referring to kisses as shooting stars which again adds to your originality, whilst simultaneously creating such pretty imagery for me. Beautiful.
    Your last verse had me tear up slightly..so incredibly moving!

    The pain of losing a loved one is one of the worst things we can feel during our life times, and something we would all avoid if we could, and yet at the same time we all know deep down it's going to happen to us sooner or later as it's part of maturing and growing up.

    Your last two lines were the most heartfelt to me, simply because of the yearning that oozes through your written words, it really allows your readers to feel what you feel and to wish for this happy ending along with you.

    Lovely work.

  • 3 years ago

    by The Poet Behind The Poems

    This was penned in unexplainable beauty, I loved this so much, it's flow was flawless soft smooth flowing , just pulling on the heart strings ...

    Till ,

    Inexplicable,
    the way your love
    manages still to venture and inspire
    the movements of my hand as I write,
    as if yours were ghostly placed over mine
    speaking to me through ink
    from a distance,
    from afar.

    What an gorgeous piece of writing , so strong and emotional , people will be inspired by this, the ending also I thought was perfect I think if you would of carried
    On it would be over written , stunning !

  • 3 years ago

    by Narph

    I really like this poem. Just everything about it: the imagery, the voice, the sentiment, it's all beautiful. To start, the descriptions the poet has used are satisfyingly relatable and effortless, without being cliche or sugarcoated. "Cigarette smoke film glazing the walls," already, I feel like I am in the room with you, like I remember the person you're writing about, like I want to help you peel the paint off those walls and follow you through the rest of the poem. It's truly an experience. I love the specifics: the guitar-picking fingers that connect the dots with your freckles especially. So vivid. But if I had to choose, I think the last stanza must be my favorite. I can't get over how beautiful it is. What a great, great poem.