Her Personal Puddle of Time Continues to Grow
I The cards have been dealt Although befour they'd been kind Some straight-shooters (Shooting up) But the house of cards Became full So she was pushed-- Out Down (Into the mud) And into... The Persistence of Memory II Memory's puddle widens-- She is swallowed down by the Quicksand of time. Gritty, rough, thick. Falling through the hourglass And into Alice's rabbit hole. Lonely, black, deep. III Deafening screams of horror From petrified eyes of sorrow. There will be no tomorrow. For she plunges the blade-- Red velvet pours, Mixing with time. IV Ping Pong Plays in her head Criss Cross Creep round the room Drip... Drop... Dots on the floor... V The pool of eras gone by grows, Reflecting all but her, As a blood-stained knife floats In the hands Of what can only be A ghost. (END ACT TWO)For those of you who haven't read the first part of this, it's entitled "Her Personal Puddle of Time." I suggest you read that before looking at this. Personally, I don't think this is as strong as its predecessor (but that might just be me)... any ideas? Also... do you think this is a two- or three-act poem? Written November 29th, 2001 © on Nov 29 2001 12:38 PM PST 0 • 10
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