POETRY

 

Pretense
by Nanette Littlestone

Peace.
Repose.
Tranquility.
The outer signs are there.
I have affected the perfect mask.
Yet what lies beneath the pose is not calm.
It sighs,
It grieves,
It moans with purposeful attempts
At shattering my placid state.
A single glimpse,
A wound,
A word,
And memories rise before my eyes,
Significant in their intent to plunge me into misery.
My heart beats on in anguish
While I strive to recapture poise.
Crude phrases come to mind.
My inner child laughs at my antics.
How well it knows me.
Where once I reveled in sublime ecstasy
I now languish in despondency.
Detached.
Grasping at faint hope for rescue.
When will this unquiet end?

Books by Nanette Littlestone:

                  

HOME  *  ABOUT  *  ARCHIVES  *  BOOKS  *  CONTACT

2015 GoodGoshAlmighty.com