The End
No words to speak—none needed now.
Your body emanates disdain,
brusque movements tell your love was feigned.
Outside our window, on a bough,
a blackbird caws, dark winter thaws,
as does the meaning of our vows.
Empty expressions, pulsing pain,
no words to say what’s needed now.
This week at dVerse Poetics, Sheila Moore http://shewriting.blogspot.com/ the opportunity to write about silent movies. I chose a drama that occurs, all too often, on and off the screen. The form is an Octain, developed by Luke Prater http://lukepraterswordsalad.com/.
Stop by the pub, go back in time, and enjoy some great poetry about those silent films: http://dversepoets.com
Thanks you Sheila…and Luke, for the form.
Victoria C. Slotto, Author 