I wish I could be a bright star
with eyelids blinking eternity
instead of this dullness more
bone than flesh.
I curl into Keats and feel
the oil on the book’s frayed corners
from my fingers stealing words
for my memory.
My head was once pillowed
upon love’s breast in its
glory and fire that burned
away all thoughts of temporary.
A flame unfed by air dies
as did my heart when
you stopped breathing.
Now I cling to Keats to keep
you from disappearing.
Together we feasted on his words
while winter melted into spring
and if I lose him you will slip from me.
Odes, Lines, songs are the food
that I eat to pass my days.
I am brailed to his words
waiting until life unties their ropes
to let me use my wings.
©Susie Clevenger 2013
At Real Toads Fireblossom challenged us to write about a book within the story within the poem....book, poet, story, poem....Thank goodness she wrote one as an example. :) I chose John Keat's poem Bright Star as the basis for my poem, but also referred to his odes, lines and songs.
Brailed: to bind (the wings of a bird) in order to prevent it from flying