This is just a short poem I wrote a while back. I hate most poetry critique sites - lots of them can be quite snobby :( - so I thought I'd post it here.
I'd just like to know whether my intended meaning and themes come across.
(Not got a name at the moment):
Can’t you drop it?
Those bones were buried long
Before, you swept aside
The clothes and shoes, stratified.
Closet Archaeologists
Like doors flung open, not costumes and song.
And there it is.
That bleached-out beauty lips
A secret – enchanted?
More or less a lie, granted
Like a wish. The White Witch of
The West is alive, and clutching green slips.
For ruby shoes.