This Poem was Submitted By: Mary J Coffman On Date: 2007-09-18 11:00:11 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Mirage

Standing at the bar’s blue edges     staring into a margarita I gradually run my finger around the rim of my glass         (like I traced your lips before we kissed) salty; the taste of your name on my tongue   I sip    to wash its sharp sting from my lips                   and gulp down my virtue how could I have known   of your Janus-faced morality   as you lured me onto your bed of make-believe? all the while    with premeditated impudence fingers spread their lies on my thighs your sleight of hand          deliberate                     with carnal contempt I sit      stroking the stem of this glass       up    down            up    down   each time      hitting the frozen bottom       as if it were the gelid throng of your heart                               spewing its fallacies                                     then ask myself was it I      that called for this charade?                              did liability lie within me?   ultimately,       naivety is the symptom that summons the Beast                                                                                 ....isn't it?                                                                                                             another swallow   to    once again    feel the burn of your poison             sliding down my throat broken dreams spiraling my mind like drunken insects circling storm lantern’s flame                                 awaiting obliteration deliberate deception        that fatal foray                     has delivered me            ~ love to the executioner ~  the verbal vampire    with his gracious grapheme   has passed sentence upon his prey and I am rendered a cripple    emotionally maimed by the purposeful plundering of my passion   disheartened        bewildered             a victim of wishful thinking and... when all’s said and done       here I stand            drinking  this frosted venom                                             wearing ruby slippers ~

Copyright © September 2007 Mary J Coffman

Additional Notes:
My friend and her abstract art! This was inspired by "Margarita" by Emma Freeman.


This Poem was Critiqued By: Paul H. Roefs On Date: 2007-10-04 05:28:35
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.88889
Mary, You have done another fine job.. The imagery is excellent and you have written a wonderful poem the reads very nicely and leads the reader deeper into a hatred for this worm of manhood., a deceitful rat, who only deserves a woman's scorn and certainly not her virtue. We all know and hate this type of person and you painted a poem that reinforces these creeps and their misbehavior. It was not her passion to blame, because her intentions were truthful honorable, or she would not feel this wronged. Thanks again for the passionate view of the dangers of young love and its disdained effects on those involved. My favorite phase is; "I gradually run my finger around the rim of my glass (like I traced your lips before we kissed) salty; the taste of your name on my tongue I sip to wash its sharp sting from my lips and gulp down my virtue" Best you and love, Paul


This Poem was Critiqued By: Rene L Bennett On Date: 2007-09-22 06:43:45
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.66667
Wow! I seriously think you could write a great book! This is awesome and each word kept me in anticipation for the next. You write with beauty with the most off the wall (or should I say different inspirations) I used to love to drink margaritas, so I could actually invision you standing there, in a red dress and a bar table drink your drink lost in deep thought. DID I SAY EXCELLENT IMAGERY? Rene'
This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2007-09-20 04:18:48
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.85714
Well poet I would love to be inspired in such a way as you seem to. From abstract art comes this well penned offering with the flow of words creating such a vision of images, emotions, pain, hurt, you name it poet you penned it......good form makes for a good read and this one does just that. Thanks for posting, God Bless, Claire
This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2007-09-19 18:11:08
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.50000
Hi Mary....a fantastic poem! I like the form you used as the words flow down the page with ease. Sometimes the long spaces between the words give me pause but not enough to take away from the wonderful words. This piece is very sensual and without your notes I would have thought you were speaking of yourself and a cruel lover! Very well done...brava.. Blessings...Marilyn
This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2007-09-19 12:32:57
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Naivete' is indeed "the symptom that summons the beast"...no question about it... so don't ask one. I want you to afford the point of view that authority; it will answer the reader's expectations better. "Mirage" is an interesting title for this poem that portrays so well the ceremony of mating ritual in a decadent society where to indiviualize is to suffer the, "purposeful plundering of my passion". Thinly masked as to intention, it is but momentary in the illusion of anything finer than release. For both. Your representation of this process, almost universal today, is easily eulogized in aspect with the images, "feel the burn of your poison/sliding down my throat" and, "throng of your heart/spewing its fallacies". Once the experience is over, the distaste that follows...primarily the lacking of anything more, is a displeasure weighing poorly against that presumption of pleasure hoped. For both. "did liability lie with me"...only in a manner of speaking. Literally, those that feel no such urges would be the only ones to deny their demands...for the rest of us, bounding in our own world, know differently. The sensuality so typical to your work, Mary, is an interesting element here, better expressing the moment of pathos felt when one is left with emptiness by its expression so well intwined within what went before it. A poem, that while it does benfit with more insight a man, shows him, as well, we all are not that much different either. A rich complicated poem, justifying every aspect of effort the reader comes to give it. Fully. JCH
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