The Party Poem by Owain Glyn
The Party
I sit; my eyes greedily scan the room.
I see gesticulation, animation.
Practiced predators search for prey,
Oiled by potions bought today
From stores that sell such dreams.
In the corner bathed in insecurity
Crouches failure,
Lacking guile, to fake the smile
That brings such rich reward.
For him, tonight, no body to entwine.
My nose takes in sweet perfumes
Experiments supply.
The sweetest smell cannot foretell,
What's truth and what is lie.
But covers fetid feelings, if only, for a while.
My ears sift conversations, exaggerations,
Often, pointless lies.
The absence of veracity,
No invite...No surprise.
These gatherings are home to fools, no places for the wise.
I touch the leather chair, on which I perch,
I search for signs, of innocence,
A futile quest.
All my senses scream for rest,
So, no more time will I invest.
I leave the room.
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4/18/2024 6:18:06 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Wonderful had me contemplating Roden's the thinker, which is how came across. The one who observes soaks and considers the deeper layers within. Consumerism in scent the ones who are always going to try too hard In the corner bathed in insecurity Crouches failure, Lacking guile, to fake the smile That brings such rich reward. For him, tonight, no body to entwine. Loved this section particularly lacking guile to fake smile. Bravo on he lonesome but real. I watch come dine with me and am hypnotised by the unusually high pitched greetings some competitors let out at the doors usually as I see it compensating for coating the conpetitors off the night before. I am now totally suspicious if I am greeted by a high screechy 'hello! ' I sound awful I know but it's just in my world :) Tubman for sharing a grand piece karen