Self Fullfilled Prophesies

This is a small villanelle poem I quickly drummed up in reply to Someone I Used to Know, who thought talking into the shadows was the same as communicating.

Speaking to Shadows

To the shadows he spoke of his despair
Always correct and proper, never to grumble
Mute silence was all she could hear
 
He guessed she needed fresh air
A hole in the sand, his head shrunk like a turtle
To the shadows he spoke of his despair
 
A daily bond of kind prose she would prefer
Looking upon the phone quiet in its cradle
Mute silence was all she was aware
 
His imaginings he locked in a box elsewhere
Though it whispered of ill-ease and betrayal
So to the shadows he spoke of misére
 
A skype, a text, a small passing of interest became rare
Sadly she looked on facebook for any flicker of care
The mute silence was all she could bare
 
“I swear you’re having an affair, to my ex you compare
All I smell is your selfish bile, your dirt and betrayal”
To the shadows he shouted of nightmare
 
Twenty six days playing a lonely game of solitaire
Low esteem, to proud to shout ‘can you see me’ or grovel
His mute silence could kiss her derriére
 
He was once a person she knew
Till a door slammed without further ado
Only to the shadows he spoke of his despair
Even though she was standing right there
 
© Juliet Jones 2011
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About Juliet Jones

Beauty is everywhere, if you but open your eyes
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2 Responses to Self Fullfilled Prophesies

  1. founditinparis says:

    Beautiful… this really spoke to me.

    I too have known the frustration of someone “talking to shadows”…

  2. anilesparrow says:

    Very nice villanelle, great use of escalation and climax … well done. And if you excuse the pun, a villanelle that begs the question, who really was the villian here? 🙂

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