Press Conference

2 Comments

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    Press Conference

     Alone, twisting in the wind
    Silent, nothing left to say
    I do not know this place
    I cannot hear the music
    Frustrated, I search for a chord
    No longer playable.

    Rejoicing, sounds of it drift this way
    Celebration, at my downfall evidently.
    I helped bring this about
    I stood shoulder to shoulder
    Gloating, they rob me of something
    I freely gave them.

    Impending, it hangs dark in the air.
    Threatening, punishment for something I did not do.
    I think my father's thoughts
    I push them away even though
    Depressing, I know they're sometimes true.

    by Tom King
    (c) 2009

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    dahlusion commented on Press Conference

    12-26-2009

    Pretty "grim", like one of those European fairy tales with full-blown darkness getting into my eyes and head and spreading over my heart where I spiritually bleed to death from your depression. You cannot be "robbed" of something that you are "freely" giving away. Yet, a surreal oxymoron in poetic language. Bravo!
    Reply to Comment

    twayneking

    12/26/2009

    That should read...did "not" give.

    twayneking

    12/26/2009

    If you give something freely and those to whom it is given turn round and beat you because others did give or because they are mad at those who withheld this thing from them and you are the nearest and least threatening person to beat up on, it is a wee bit depressing.

    dahlusion

    12/27/2009

    …and I do understand; you are a fine poet with so much to give — never stop giving it to us here on OP. Peace and Light, Dah

    HarverTomsson commented on Press Conference

    08-21-2009

    Some days are diamond, some are stone. thanks for sharing the stone with us. Better days are ahead. I love the line, "I think my father's thoughts." It suggests and evokes so much.
    Reply to Comment

    In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite.

    Franz Kafka (1883-1924) Czech writer.

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