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Lattices in Lace

by Liminality


The world and all its time are etched in patterns, fine and deep
and optimists love to recall a flowing tapestry,
but what I see is more a quilt where simple hues repeat:
where squares ensnare our knowledge in our broken memory.

Quite often people say that the most sought-out lovers keep
the vestiges of details that they may deploy in verse;
if so is true, our hearts must be as passionless as sleep –
forgetful strings just doomed to ravel under heaven’s curse.

And though a needle strikes the cloth in one explosive leap,
and just as quickly can recoil, more quickly than a sneeze,
the stencil is still circular and seldom strings can seep,
this world’s a woollen blanket, and we, just a passing breeze.


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12 Reviews


Points: 1136
Reviews: 12

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Thu Nov 08, 2018 7:23 pm
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bigsisfarmer wrote a review...



I love this poem!

It has great rhythm and symbolism.

I find myself wishing that it kept going forever, which is extremely difficult to find in writers especially in poems.

I love how it hints about all of us being woven in time. How all of our lives are short, and on it's own meaningless, but when all "stitched" together, can truly become something great!

Keep up the great work!




Liminality says...


Thank you for the review!



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43 Reviews


Points: 597
Reviews: 43

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Thu Nov 08, 2018 6:03 pm
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FireSpyGirl says...



Hi there!
This is a really good poem! You kept the rhythm steady and consistent. I love the depth, and for me, this poem is a type of allegory. My favorite part is the ending:

"And though a needle strikes the cloth in one explosive leap,
and just as quickly can recoil, more quickly than a sneeze,
the stencil is still circular and seldom strings can seep,
this world’s a woollen blanket, and we, just a passing breeze. "

This isn't much, so I'm sorry about that!
Keep up the good work!




Liminality says...


Thanks for your comments!




Blessed is the man who, having nothing to say, abstains from giving us wordy evidence of the fact.
— George Eliot