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Blue turning grey, they say.
Mock, touch, love
Starts all over again
Like a record stuck on repeat
Jarred between the play/pause,
Trapped within this dilapidated beat.
Blue turning grey, they say.
Listen to you,
Only you can tell me what to
Think, say, feel.
No mind of my own
Just legs, arms, feet,
See with these eyes of mine.
Blue turning grey, they say,
One day you'll be pink, be red.
i like the use of colours within this, georgina and like the way you build with the pink and red's at the end.. a excellent ending! nice one x
You are kind. I guess we are born again every time we embark on the old love boat and we are always in for a rocky ride. x
<Deleted User> (6517)
Mon 16th Aug 2010 21:00
thank you, i prefer your interpretation actually. it's about the heart-losing/regaining its colour and strength xx
I've read this a couple of times. Is the analogy to do with new born's taking their first breath? But I'm presuming the poem is about what love does to you - being made vulnerable, exposed, powerless...
An original take on the subject - I like it. x
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<Deleted User> (7904)
Tue 17th Aug 2010 20:27
I like this. The repetition of the colours throughout and the three word lines divided by commas give it a strong but off-beat sense of rhythm which fits really well with the idea of being 'jarred between the play/pause /trapped within this dialpidated beat' (a really brilliant couplet by the way).