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

Monday, March 29, 2010

Ophelia Drowned

Ophelia drowned was beautiful still,
With frail palor and silken skin,
Flower guardians to shepherd her way
From ebb to flow from tide to day.
We drowned her and nothing's the same,
Lost our cause to falling tears,
Blinding aims have slain our goddess,
Doused the stars of fire
Brought the world to silence
Kills his love undoubtable,
Too much water we wept for ourselves
And for our flaws Ophelia's drown'd.
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