My Madness, My Mistress

Once more I pause
paralysed on the edge
of my man-made abyss;
echoes of my past
eager to push me over
with a well-aimed phrase or
to throw me a rope burn
to my still open wounds.

Her words; weight to my descent;
lure me back
into her comfortable fold
between the horizon
and the drowning sea
tempted if I return
to my madness, my mistress
you will slip forever
from my reach.

© D Archer April 2012

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8 thoughts on “My Madness, My Mistress

  1. If a person really loves you, and that love is truly important. So important that it has become a part of them, then these moments are hurtles. Challenges that will bring you closer. They may be frightening. But if you walk through together, you will be there together.

  2. I wrote, and blogged, a poem beginning “Madness, my mistress”. I googled this to see if I could be found out (to avoid attacks by imagined adorers and unknown enemies)by saying these words out loud in public. Turns out even the all-seeing google doesn’t read my poems – BUT it does read yours and it brought me to them. I think the ones where you tried are better than what is out there in the contemporary published world… and I hate reading almost all new poetry. I just don’t think that stuff out there is any good. The stuff I read here though: pretty good. … Unless of course I have no taste – then you are screwed.

    • I too live in constant fear of adoration by hoards of fans. Thank you for your comments (I think) and for the interesting point about “where I tried”, although in my defence I would say that some of better stuff came when I was actually at my lowest and I was just able to articulate it better. I appreciate your sliding scale of literary criticism as well, ranging from “pretty good” to “screwed”, I’m happy to fit somewhere in between.

  3. This is a great poem. The first stanza is flawless. [Abyss – echoes – throw me a rope] leading to [burn-open wound]. If I read [fold] in the right meaning – as in land/landscape – I totally dig the whole poem. It should be somewhere better than just the internet.

    • Thanks but Im afraid you misunderstood this poem, its about when I went on Holiday as a child and a large seagull stole my fish and chips as i sat watching a Punch and Judy show on the beach when I was seven, I never really recovered from this traumatic event and to this day I can’t help but wonder if that seagull got indigestion. This thought keeps me awake most nights. I’m sorry you thought the poem was about something else, I’ll try and be more clear next time.

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