Sanctum

Let me have my secrets...they bring me solace.

“Blonde at Window” photography by Hanulinka

courtesy of panoramio.com

Like a burglar with a crowbar

you attempt to pry open

the door to the room where my secrets hide

a place where photographs are yellowed with time

yet still hold the rosy glow of youth

hopes are still tangible in this room

expectations still have the potential of being met

the gritty angst of life has magically stayed out

it is here I sing my song

the one I continue to write

but only when no one is watching

so please do not enter this sanctum of mine

it is my calm

                it is my serenity

and I will guard it with all I’m worth

Reviews

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Each one of us has our own inner sanctum. With time, we spend more and more time in that sanctum reflecting on who we were, who we are, and who we are to become. Being cognizant of time, makes us appreciate its fleeting nature; and we must all be guardful of how precious it is. This poem is a nicely penned tome to the inner self. Great job!

[Lydia Shutter]

Thank you very much, Linda. Happy Thanksgiving. Lydi**

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

You're so welcome, Lydi. I hope that you have a blessed and happy Thanksgiving as well.

[Sheila Kline]

There is a place within each of us that should be "off limits" and often there are those who try to invade this space, this inner sanctum that is for no other to delve within so we must reinforce our resolve not to let them in, to remain true to self and not give away the "all of all". As you describe, it is in this place where we have total peace with who we are, who we are yet to be, where we are forever young, where we sing and dance as if no one else is watching and feel comfortable in doing so!

A write that comes from the depths of your soul - your place of serenity!

The "blond at the window" has that look of "Ah ha, only I know the answers to the questions of me"!

[Lydia Shutter]

I was drawn into that photo myself, Sheila. Thank you so much for the lovely review. Have a great day. Lydi**

[redzone]

so I guess this means I cannot ask you to tell me all: tell me everything, life the universe and everything.... ;0) awww Lydi, but thats where the fun is!! oh well, I do understand, if we do not have alone time, or secrets that fill a corner of our hearts, we would not, could not write the poetry that insists on moving our feet, on disturbing our souls, on demanding to be heard. For it is here that we become poets and not just ordinary users of words... and it is here that we actually tell our secrets as fantasy, or in metaphors .. besides, only very special people ever get to know us and our secrets...
these lines caught me: "a place where photographs are yellowed with time / yet still hold the rosy glow of youth...
~~redzone

[Lydia Shutter]

Curt, thank you so much. I had a feeling you would understand. Alone time....when we can roam the alleyways of our minds in peace and remember. Yes, that is where a lot of poetry is born. You know it...and me. Thank you, my friend. Lydi**