Ropes

 
 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
 calibrate 
 new heights 
 progress reports
 on air
 -impress 
 worlds
 out 
 there
 

 neo-gods 
 in the skies
 await 
 their turn
  to act
 ice-cold 
 knives 
 will slash
 ropes
 -pour 
 as rain
 leaving 
 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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