they celebrate bondage, swaying to tunes
 condemning freedom, dancing on sand dunes
notice not - slipping ground, controls shift
 euphoria;  all’s well
 puppets telling stories vanish, dropped
 from invisible strings - their pictures float 
programmed memories
 thought -  on controlled oxygen 
 welcomes contamination 
 as new awakening
 seepage of venom - 
 never cared to know
 -is destined
 to know not
 swinging in new air, 
 their feet 
 leave ground
 new heights 
 progress reports
 on air

 in the skies
 their turn
  to act
 will slash
 as rain
 no time
 to think 
 or react 

22 thoughts on “Ropes

  1. There is something faintly ominous about how this morphs down the page. I got a feeling of Armageddon, perhaps by extraterrestrials… The changing ropes and who cuts them may be yet to be revealed. Intriguing poem, Reena!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. So like what you’ve done here – the shape on the page – a dangling rope; the punchy opening line – intriguing; and open imagery – swings, puppetry, astronauts and the hangman – all came to mind. I particularly liked stanza 5 – ‘swinging in new air…’ – their feet / leave ground / calibrate / new heights…’ Great stuff.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Very well done Reena… so many great metaphors and images. This one made me think of one who is in the hospital on a ventilator fading in and out of dreams with medications bringing euphoria and vaccines being fed into veins!

    Liked by 1 person

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