Concealment

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Hard to summarise poetry, or give it a genre, especially this one. It's about people being dishonest in their friendships, mainly.

Submitted: August 06, 2008

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Submitted: August 06, 2008

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How the Sea reflects the stars,
And the lights of passing cars,
As people go about their day,
And dealers sell and buyers pay,
With jet planes soaring in the sky,
Then as the Sun begins to die,
They put on hold their busy lives
And blunt their tongues, once sharp as knives,
And settle down to have a chat,
About the weather, this or that.
The time has come, it once was said,
And though the Sun has long been dead,
At least the stars are shining bright,
To lend some kindness to the night.
Now all the strife is laid to rest,
Until we next disturb the nest,
And enmities wake up again,
And make us bicker, just as then.
The words go flying down the wire,
Yet more fuel to feed the fire,
And things that no one ever said,
Are etched forever on their head.
The lies lead deeper, deeper down,
In all these lies the truth must drown.
Happy smiles are yet more lies,
A veil that the Lord of Flies,
Has laid upon his favourite show,
That none but him shall ever know,
For when our works are at their ends,
We turn to lies about our friends,
Who to trust and who to choose?
Which ever way, you’ll surely lose.
We get to work and settle down,
On not one face is there a frown,
And yet beneath this rose façade,
The Truth is lurking, cold and hard,
A Truth that we have spun from lies,
This web of lies that never dies.
Look how the Sea reflects the stars,
And the lights of passing cars,
Beneath the surface, pretty, green,
All the evil can’t be seen,
No shark down there, no deadly leech,
Just reflections of the beach.
The lies are ended, all burnt out,
No one still has breath to shout,
Across the field, now cold and bare,
The hapless few survivors stare.


© Copyright 2018 TomMottram. All rights reserved.

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