Anger in his eyes
matches intensity
of a hurt, pouting
bottom lip.
He stares
at her with forest eyes
darkening, giving a
surreal look to the sclera.
He stares
at her in disbelief,
wanting to strike
at her, shakes her,
wanting to cry.
He stares.
http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/
I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York.
My goal is to create and share poetry with others
who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve
in you, and feel your sparks as well.
Love pouting lip, forest eyes ~~ his most striking features. Well done, Sara!
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Thanks, Helen!
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I like your way of looking at this picture.
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Thanks, Sumana!
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Wowza! “Stares… with forest eyes”–perfect imagery.
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Thanks, Zelda!
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You’re welcome.
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“Forest eyes” sigh…a stunning capture of the image Sara!!
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Thanks, Carrie!
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You’ve captured his intensity and piercing stare so well! Bravo
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Thanks, Bev!
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No strikes allowed is a part of the Golden Rule. I also saw anger in the photo but more prominently fear. But I didn’t write about either.
..
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I saw a lot of hurt.
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They say anger is hurt rerouted.
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Those are wise words.
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Makes me want to know what happened between them…
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If you find out, let me know!
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🙂
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I don’t know what else to say, but add my Wow to this fabulous poem!
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Thanks so much, Susie!
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