Figure of FreedomA Poem by ConstanceThe challenge said only to use the phrase Sweet Marionette. So I did? This is what I came up with on a rainy afternoon.Life? It is I.. the damsel at the end of fine strings You pulled and tossed and whirled about at your whim For so long, your sweet marionette- pale, demure, Graceful lovechild of your frigid union with fate Flailing when you said to flail only, letting you speak For all that I was supposed to be holding inside You twirled your hands just so... and I danced I danced until I hated dancing, even hated music For I did not realize there was a way to loose myself
One day, your little puppet on a leash had a dream She had a concious thought, began sharpening her wit Until the edge cut so keenly through the lines you held- Sending her clattering to the ground, alone, but free Bruised, but not shattered within or even without She stood up, and for the first time, she invented She invented a new dance, to a new song, by herself But even more, she taught it to some others... your toys Oh, whatever shall you do when the dusty shelf is empty?
No one need suffer the hand that holds the strings.
© 2008 ConstanceAuthor's Note
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8 Reviews Added on August 7, 2008 AuthorConstanceA Small Town in, KSAboutI write about my past, my own real experiences. Even my poetry is inspired by my life. I was, I suppose, born writing, making up stories and rhymes from about when I started to speak, but had to wait .. more..Writing
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