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by Jabulani 

Posted: 21 February 2007
Word Count: 50

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Ripple, beat
The air cracks,
by a wings cut

Each momentís

Freely bound;
a dance
against love

And the fire
beyond reach
that calls
through the closing dark

Again the burn
and the beat
and the crack
and the pull
and the dance
that dies

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Comments by other Members

mermaid at 14:14 on 22 February 2007  Report this post
Hi there Laura,

I'm fascinated by how moths are drawn to the light, and you capture it really well here. It was like watching a moth flying, close up, in slow motion.

For some reason, the word 'rent' jumped out at me a bit awkwardly. My brain immediately thought of the sort of rent where you rent a house, but then I realised you meant it in the other sense. That moment of confusion broke the flow for me - but perhaps it's just me and my odd, dyslexic brain :-)

against love

I particularly like that line.

A haunting poem.


Jabulani at 18:14 on 22 February 2007  Report this post
Thank you Mermaid
maybe the word rent would have worked better later after introducing the word torn?
I may work on this poem...it kind of came out suddenly yesterday having not been on writewords for ages!
Moths are a bit tragic aren't they? They stop throwing themselves at the very thing that will finish them off!

Anyway.....the feedback is helpful. Cheers.

Jabulani at 18:15 on 22 February 2007  Report this post
that is they can't stop!!!

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