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Taja Bankhead Poem
Ignorance isn't bliss.
Ignorance is only
paradise to the giver,
not to the receiver.
In result of hearing
the venomous words,
his formerly blissful emotions become
contaminated,
as emotions turn
from gold to tar.
His black, acid eaten
emotions are clearly
shown on his face,
as his gateway of tears
are struggling to compress
and hold back,
threatening to drown the
ignorant.
But if he lets go,
if the dam for his tears crack and collapse,
his tears would only
be a shallow puddle,
not even covering
the giver of ignorance's
shoes.
But the giver still smirks
in satisfaction
aware of his reaction
as the
receiver
tries
so
hard
not
to break
down
and crumble at his feet.
Copyright © Taja Bankhead | Year Posted 2008
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Taja Bankhead Poem
There it goes
Fluttering along
With the breath of spring
As its rustling wings echo
In my ears like permanent memories,
Its image brightening the day scenery.
But as I tiptoe as if the grass was thin ice
My close view is what I sacrificed,
When the bird flapped its wings and
Soars away
As if my tiptoes
Brought rumbling tremors.
Copyright © Taja Bankhead | Year Posted 2008
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Details |
Taja Bankhead Poem
You think you know who
I am, familiar
with all of my
flaws and
quirks that reside in
my exterior.
You think you can
read me so well,
that if my soul
were your bestselling
paperback novel,
then the pages
would be heavily
dogeared at the
corners and wearing
out with use.
However, in reality,
I am that paperback book, without the
dog-eared pages,an overlooked
but barely intact novel
on the outside, containing worn
and yellow pages that are
threatening to
let go from
the spine of
the book.
But, you continue to
be so oblivious.
Your mind continues to swirl
with a poisonous
fallacy that my beauty
in your eyes is real,
without the artificial traits.
Well the girl, the face
you are so familiar with
swirls down the drain
each night,
revealing all of my
grosteque flaws
behind your
unspuspecting
back.
I don't want to hide
the exterior of who I am,
but I have no other choice.
So, I will never be
able to lay my head
on your warm chest
and memorize
the slow, but
steady rhytmn of your
heartbeat,
beacuse I cannot bear
to see the flame
your eyes die
to a
dim spark,
when the beautiful girl
you know rubs off
and sink
into the softness of your
white tee.
Copyright © Taja Bankhead | Year Posted 2008
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