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Not my favourite poem honestly. It could have been a lot better. But there are parts of it that I'm very proud of. I am thankful that I can share it with you all. The message is pure, and beautiful.

The rusted hinges of

My openheartedness

Are no longer

A revolving door

Peeking out the barrel of a gun

Crowning Valkyries,

Painting themselves

Into a cornerstone of creation

The dancing branches

Shooting out like a war zone in the night sky

Fallen leaves celestial

Under the terpsichorean planets

And the ceramic stars’ arsenal

Of flower petal shards and shrapnel rapture

I miss the steel sky

With its cast-iron sun and steampunk hearts

The smoke and mere-image of another world

The clockwork clouds of apocalypse’s howl

Swallowing hollow notes

In the journal of eternity

Like a stray dog feasting on

Elysium’s scrap metal edifice

Matted alabaster unravelled

Lost roads of magenta mementos

A double helix of freedom’s spiralling bible

The godfather of the sun’s secondhanded clockwork

The open palm tree of a weeping will-o-wisp

Reaching out to embrace

The lost children of the heavens

Even the odd ones out

I laced my shoes

Tripping on tongue-tied lullabies with no sole

I need to catch my breath

Before it runs away again

Down the gurgling stream

Of the breeze’s seamstress

Line and sinker caught by red-handed roses

Sowing the reaper’s cloth

Worn by the dead like a ragged flag of megalomania

Waving the banner rippling like oceans of blood

Christening the abyssal mistress of a cold fire

Hearts drowning

In the red wine of mangled grapevines

Lungs filled with shouts that never breathe

Tongues that never twist

In the maelstrom’s ballroom void

Faces that never smile

Eyes that never cry

Glass features that never take form

Into anything but an empty book

With whitewashed pages uncovered

By the spindling spine of diablo’s design

The hinges of that book

Are mouths stapled shut

Are songs I no longer sing

Are birds without their wings

Are wives abandoning their rings

I writhe in empires capsized and grin

I arrive at the same place that I begin

 

 

 

The rusted door still knows how to swing

The limbs of a puppet

Can always put on a good show

Maybe if I keep moving

I won’t be left behind

I won’t eventually stop

But when there is no one left to wind me up

When there is no show to perform

When the silence wrings out the palette of my heart

I will no longer paint pictures in heads

A disembodied time capsule

Silenced buried

Under the slithered scimitars

Of oblivion’s solar flare

Well, I suppose even still waters run deep down there

I hope you know how to refurbish a hurricane’s fable

Every fairy-tailing the forever trailing sentences

Of a railroad bullet train

These diabolical waterfalls

Polished by solitude, chiselled by guillotines

If I go still

Let it be a movement pushing forward

Rather than taking a step back down the mountain

The crescendo of every note

Climbing into the stormy severed edges of heaven

Every deadly word a surging purgatory

Of aurora borealis’ fountain alchemy

The Valkyries velvet melody

Celadon comets of armada’s starburst

The fauna of our dawning obelisks

An ensemble of symphonic constellations

Let the worlds of your eyesockets glisten, and listen

The music box is still playing

Its steel heart

Beats in a bar of yellowed pages

Like the afternoon sun

On my plate

 

Author's Note

I promise I read every single review, and I generally will reply to them. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be happy to hear anything you feel needs sharing. Whenever you write on my shortcomings or breakthroughs, or the themes of my poems, or share ideas and friendly criticism, it decides my next poem to an extent. I will listen, learn and be thankful. And 99% of the time, you'll get a reply unless you're trolling me.

Reviews

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Your tagline says you're really proud of this poem but not sure if it'd look as great when you look back at it in future. You're wondering about future more than the present. It's always the best for now and it'd always be best for now only. I too feel like that when I look back at my poems (generally I don't) but 'Another Breakdown' and 'Paradise' ...there are more. The are like pride from that time even if it's not now. So it happens because we are always silly in past and wiser in future.
Anyways this poem was great, you often wind up the whole Galaxy in your poem but this was like 'a new world'. Your imagery is always so great, I'd like to suggest to work on sounds. As many senses you can grab in your poetry it takes it to an upper level. You should experiment with 'sounds', 'touch', 'odour'. I'm planning for one but not getting enough motivation out of any topic.

Keep Writing,
Good Luck!

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Thank you Aurora, I will focus on the next poem to come. :)

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

I am in total awe of your writing R.J. Every line is a line I wish I had written, but know I never could. The brave and beautiful wrtten and pictorial imagery take my breath away. Your metaphors and symbolism, ranging from ethereal to apocalyptic, make a powerful and profound personal statement. Beginning and ending with the rusted hinges and rusted door of a life of fragility and strength that has teetered and suffered and survived.. You are a genius, and yes, the music box is still playing. Play on always my friend1

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Thank you for your kind review, I will certainly continue writing onward for the rest of my life.