The Emperors Coat

Oscar-Gustave-Rejlander-Grief-1864-painting-artwork-print

You borrow grief
and weave a covering for your hair with it
and bow and scrape the tears from your cheeks
and cry why why
and people hear and weep with you
supporting you in your pain
never realising it’s merely someone elses leftovers
counterfeit feelings
a stolen cloak of emotions displayed
richly embroidered
look at me
wonder at me
designed so that the crowd will murmur
see how brave, how sad
how tender her heart
but like the emperors coat
it’s not really there.

 

©jayetomas2014

*artwork by oscar gustave rejlander*

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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