summer moon
a glistening crescent shrine
to all the wayward girls
opened its doors to me
quite readily, and me
always a willing supplicant
entered easily
through the rear view mirror
in traffic stopped by a freight train
on the night you no longer loved me
and i had to learn to love myself


and laugh at what you lost
if you can fathom up the cost
in life's rollercoaster shifts and ranges
where last laughs look to never end or start

or ride the rails to some far place
deep within my heart
echoing the nothingness
derailed before its start
and delusion, a real phenomenon , denies the ends to started froms..
but I prevail for I still see the glistening moon
and yours is not the face within
and ceaseless to write opposing or agreeing,..each within, some without.

still playing that word harp beautifully pen - phil
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why all the skips in the poetry, is there a point?
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yes, a very desperate one.
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That previous comment is bad!! The point is to seperate the stantzas or verses as I call them. Fapral
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and calls are doing great!
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Fapral, I like the last two stanzas very much. If you wrote them Fapral, fine job! And I agree, the 'skips' are called stanzas... pretty common in poetry, anonymous:))) -pen
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a combined participation in stanzas,also can be said,. extremely common.
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Sorry pen, that wasn't mine. Fapral

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I think she knew that.
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and the poem says, the faces within are within.
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At the bottom of the page, click Completed Poems, and maybe understand this poem.
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Thanks for all the interesting comments! Time to close this one up! -pen:)