Kenneth has a taste for abstract/prose poetry as well as the comical side of life. 23-years of writing for a newspaper has served him well.
I gazed into mirror twain
In your eyes I saw defeat
In my eyes I saw the pain.
Soon at dawn we dine on guarded meat.
Still, mute in my folded hand
Shaking of future past,
Striking death in vacant land,
Thin mirror, blurry, blurry mast.
I cannot drop the mirror pane
Time and love mix possessions,
Like oil and gushing pain.
You, the peace and my aggression.
Writer's summary – you find a valued antique mirror. You
loved it at first light. Now in years of use, you face a cross roads
for sure. Do you hold or toss the mirror?
This is my interpretation. What is yours?
© 2018 Kenneth Avery