Dry Ophelia
unformed, anonymous
urgently pinched
in waves of finned dispersion
a distant face streaming
slowly apart
the slumping waves of a forgotten pond
i drown inside as a lost cat
a thin river
dry Ophelia,
unsure where to fade
carrying bouquets neither real
nor artificial
symbiotic petals
christening a sleeping sea
with clear blushes even
you don't understand
dry as the brush you
were painted with
still not knowing
as your cheeks
strike the canvas
at once and with a cup of stars
my dry Ophelia
Comments
Good
A thin river
Dry Ophelia,
Unsure where to fade
The imagery it carry make me imaging how beautiful it looks like.
Thanks for this poem.
I'm not sure
what that comment totally meant, but anyone who is a Director of Community Outreach anywhere is entitled to his perception.
In Shakespeare's play
Ophelia is a woman who drowns herself out of despair. So "Dry Ophelia" is sort of an aesthetic contradiction, there, a nonrepresentational poem. A dry Ophelia is a woman who still has the chance to live but is confused when she is on land, so to speak. Thus the lines in the poem.