Hi!

Welcome to my poetry blog!

I am a twenty-four brown-eyed Aruban wanderer;
forever questioning where I'm going
and where I've been.
And when I'm not reading,
I'm writing. When I'm not writing, I'm reading.

Furthermore, writing has always been my
way of captivating a deep thought, grief,
lost love, depression and even hatred (sometimes).

Feel free to read and comment on my weird,
puzzling, obsessive, reckless and sometimes
confusing poems. It's all about what you
interpret from them that gets me buzzin'!


Thank you and have fun reading y'all.

-Lily Clarisa

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Spoke in the Wheel



Spoke in the Wheel
He’ll go on pretending,
like he’s not a spoke in her wheel,
the fish on the line.

She’ll call a spade a spade,
with the love of a nun,
the soul of a maid.

The sun will come up,
showing its russet wings.
The eloquence by which she speaks,
layers of a farce,
wrapped up in shame--
or maybe grief?

The earth will cast its virginal son,
with the eyes of a priest,
the sin of the Lord.

No matter what you call yourself now;
you’ll always be the spoke in her wheel,
the fish on the line. 


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