I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

13 November 2013

The Other Girl

The other girl
looks tired.
Poor thing, 
she is trying so hard
to be good.

She is distant.
I'm watching her
through a pane of glass.
I see her mouth move
but hear no words.

With my mind
I cut her image in two.
It reassembles
and continues  
to mouth shapes.

The other girl,
who lives in my mirror,
looks like me —
my face, my features,
but not my spirit.

She is robot-girl,
coping with duty.
Me, I am light and airy,
free to remove myself
farther and farther.

I wouldn't want
to be her,
even though I made her.
She's a doll, a shell.
She saves me. 

I leave the work
to her. I leave, 
I feel no pain. 
And she does not feel pain.
She does not feel.

(Another piece not suitable in a collection for children!
Based on a story someone told me; not autobiographical. 
The person concerned did recover from this episode.)

Poetic Asides November Poem A Day Chapbook Challenge, day 9: The other (blank)

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