Welcome to Shards of Silver

Marianne Moore once defined 'poetry' as "Imaginary gardens with real toads in them". I found this such a striking definition of something that captures the values of poetry that I couldn't leave it alone.

I've been writing - attempting - poetry since I knew how to hold a pen(cil). Some poems I write I like, most I don't, but every now and then I feel compelled to write them down, like a flush of emotion that demands access to some sort of visible medium that can later be accessed and reconsidered. I thought, maybe, that sharing these poems could help me out a little. I welcome critiques, critical and constructive (though I do, of course reserve the right to ignore the sharper sides of people's tongues ;) ), and hope that in return for your help I can leave you with something better than sorry attempts at a craft which only a tiny few have ever really mastered.

Clear Skies~V

Sunday, July 4, 2010

The Virgin's Never

Broken daylight like sand against my skin;
Rubbed raw at missing you.
'Never' seems so final,
Like Macbeth's bells of heralded death,
And while I know the bells will ring just this once,
The thought of 'never'
Is no imagined dagger but reality,
Here driven into my heart;
My virginal blood then on our sheets. 

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