Poetry of the week – mystery and intrigue
| July 25, 2012 | Posted by Georgie Tindale under poetry |
Mystery
Looking into your eyes is like looking into a room full of smoke.
I have a knowledge of what to expect and see but I can’t see everything I wish too, though I can always hope.
Looking into you while our eyes meet there’s so much I wish to ask and to be told.
However judging by your smile and the way the dodge my questions
it appears I will be playing this game until I am old.
Every time I get an answer to one of my questions two more appear in my head for me to ask
I want to keep trying to understand the mystery that is you, a very lengthy, complex but also fun task.
I’m not going to say I understand everything about you, certainly there are moments when I think I have no clue.
But even so I can sometimes catch a glimpse of who you really are by slowly working away at the mystery of well, you.
There’s no truth I want to achieve or ending, I just would like to understand you entirely as you are.
However knowing you as I do I know this is going to be a task full of wonder and confusion
like trying to understand the beauty of a star.
Cheesy comments aside I can’t help but want to know more and more about you,
it can be casual or what you like, or even why you smile in a certain way.
It’s different being with you, I’ll say that much and I believe I will eventually come to understand you
to a degree at least some day.
But until then your remain a beautiful mystery which one day I hope to understand.
Until then I will grow and learn to understand you independently on my own
looking for my own answers to what I want, not being led by someones hand.
By Alex Dib-Bennet
Geography
I’m looking at you as you
think of me thinking of you
and you shift the intensity
from me to you to me again.
You look at my face and
taste what I would be like
and grimace from an inner place.
So much pleasure nothing better than
discomfort on a Tuesday morning.
Nothing goes to waste you absorb
all the chores of being me
the stretches aches and pains
and blemishes. Strain to
replenish your supply.
I would give anything for you to
nest and keep deep and let
me be your looking glass object.
In one respect I melt
with condensation sweltering
melting as you take me in but
I’d give anything to live in a
parallel world where
looking glasses social classes
and thousand mile distances
do not exist.
This is my dilemma.
By Georgie Tindale
The Stranger of the Night
The clock had just struck twelve when
he, a tall dark stranger roughly six foot 2 approaches.
His face a hard stone figure
his hair the colour of the night.
The urge to walk away is intense but
I have become fascinated with him,
it is an instant connection.
The shadows of the night dance over him
in blissful splendour.
I catch his eyes in the light of the moon.
we stare intently at one another, he has
captivated me. From that point onwards
I am frozen. Time seems to stop, then he shifts slightly.
His face now visible, I gasp at the beauty he holds.
His eyes are warm and full of life. His lips are pale and slender.
Then he speaks in a dark intoxicating voice.
By Courtney Nicholson
Mystery
What lies over this lip?
A monster, trees or another dip?
What lies in this dizzying fog?
Aliens, hills or a pack of dogs?
We may never know unless we walk.
One foot, two toward the dark.
By Ellys Sugarman
With my hand I gather
With my hand, I gather in this emptiness:
Sunlight skipping on the water.
The undarkness of a moonlit night.
The view from the pinnacle of a mountain.
With my hand, I gather in this emptiness:
Autumnal leaves crisply crack.
Nature’s omnipotent death and rebirth,
Impersonally created, patterns in mud.
With my hand, I gather in this emptiness:
Marks on a page, yet full of meaning.
A pen, yellow, skittering.
With this hand, I gather in this emptiness.
Mine.
By William Taylor
Each week The Student Review publishes a collection of poems about a particular topic or theme. For this week’s theme, or to submit a poem, go here.
