...so check the date of manufacture

Please sing me a warmer anthem

So tired of holding black roses…

That pallid, anti star phantom,

Turned out to be consistently erosive.

 

There is hardly a reason

To reason with the truth…

But I do love my prison

That lavishly ensnared my youth.

 

In this massive formicary

Few people know how to live…

Distorted loves have made us weary

There is no truth left to believe

It has expired…

 

Author's Note

Reviews

[R.E. Ray]

Ana, an exceptional poem that speaks to the harshness of life, especially as we age. Life and love often cut us and break us, and our natural tendency is to withdraw into that “prison” where at least we’re safe (but not from our own thoughts). Your image and music complement your poetry and make this true art.

[Ana B.]

Thank you for the wonderful words, Ray! Happy holidays ;)

[R.E. Ray]

You’re welcome. Happy New Year!

[Chris]

Watching the seasons roll in then on? How are ya holding up? Here the cold meanders ...a late fall then MEAN winter day or three, then back to a late fall. Still ...not always a dull grayness to deal with for months on end.

[Ana B.]

Hehe, winter is very warm and gentle here, no snow so far.But life is surprisingly active and always in motion. Merry Christmas my dear :))

[Chris]

Merry Christmas Ana...

[jacob erin-cilberto]

love the philosophy in this....and remember those days of loving with reckless abandon...and the prison of naivety...good meals served there by the way.
children are always so truthful and innocent...adults...well...as the poem says....
the expiration date has long since come and gone.
j.

[Ana B.]

Very insightful, thank you for your words Jacob.