Within

Was pain always
just short of the worlds
we paint in strokes?

Alias to love
wrapped in whispers
and scented with foxglove.

Our words
were kissed with steal,
embedded in swordplay.

Each a symbol of
transformation from
form to emotion.

And we wait for secrets to unfold themselves,
all the little white horses that trace our tongue,
promise after promise, dream after dream,
standing ready for those truths within.

  

© Phen Weston 2015

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11 thoughts on “Within

  1. Delightful! I just read this in another blog: George Orwell said in his rules for writing, “Never use a metaphor, simile, or other figure of speech which you are used to seeing in print.”
    You did it perfectly! In my novel when Jordan is out at the ranch, would you mind if one of the characters used ‘the little white horses’? I’m working on it now, but the going is slow. I thought I was over my writer’s block, but apparently not.
    I am confused with ‘kissed with steal’; did you mean the metal–steel, or am I simply missing something?

    1. Thank you so much for the kind words and I’m really sorry for the late reply. I’m really glad you like the poem too. As for kissed with steal, it means that sometimes a mouth/tongue can be as sharp and harmful as any sword.

      And, for using ‘the little white horses’, in what context do you mean?

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