Its been forever since I posted or participated in a challenge or poetry offering. I remember when that's all I did around here...So here is a picture and an open room. I hope you are inspired
And to think I blindly followed you now, I am all reckless stairwells and falling sounds…my throat, a lovely murder.
The room my thoughts built lingers, every day new chinks glint upon its surface, moths surround it; hell-bent on seeing it crumble.
I Throw grubs at them to keep them happy, as they shriek distract them with song, and let this room continue where hope keeps chaos chained, where your huge luminous shadow keeps me agog.
My breathing has become,a ghost in me, Haunting pages of poems I swallow, I choke, I cry in an *estuary* My mind a room of ashes,
My hands as good as air, deaf and dumb, but in my sleep I write red-winged dreams tufted dreams; one was of salt, and one was without hunger that one was a fairytale forest of three-leaved trees
I thought I knew everything… (the catcall of the wronged)
but what is true, is also ruinous,( AND) is also vital for survival though I continue to question choices, steps, ambitions mornings are a drowned city gulls fall from the fog, their voices trailing chords of …Hunger. Regret. Doubt
I heard once that absence culls the wayward, that the derelict leaf soon ashes and turns into air
who says?
the loon? who is now brooding in isolation, or caution:
what does this mean?
I fell in the crevices, and never saw it coming.. like rain, tears, or runoff..I pooled this dark pool of water, formed the sky’s silhouette. no matter how stagnant, the regret..I accept it as fate
I cannot sleep, nor do I recall waking and though I live in silence, I live in light, My mind is a metaphor, dripping in terror of being found out… again I am thinking about oblivion, again, the time, all of it, I have spent in its romance.
*An estuary is a partly enclosed coastal body of water with one or more rivers or streams flowing into it, and with a free connection to the open sea.[1] *
mornings are a drowned city gulls fall from the fog, their voices trailing chords of …Hunger. Regret. Doubt
I heard once that absence culls the wayward, that the derelict leaf soon ashes and turns into air
OH MY GOD Can you say....epic?
I fell in the crevices, and never saw it coming.. like rain, tears, or runoff..I pooled this dark pool of water, formed the sky’s silhouette. no matter how stagnant, the regret..I accept it as fate
I think my mind is blown. And its not like I am unaccustomed to reading you. Its just that - well, you've lost none of your edge - its like no time has passed since I read you last.
Dripping in terror of being found out. that line resonates with me on so many levels. There is this nebulous anxiety - and you've spoken to it with this piece.
It pleases me that you like this....I tend to ramble on, never making a point....or maybe I am making one, that just keeps repeating itself...I would like to say more with less lines....Love you Tam, thanks for leaving me some breadcrumbs, poetry is a salve
I've sloughed it off to the side - poetry - for so long when the reality is - writing is truly necessary for my sanity. It needs to come - if not first - then in the top three. It makes me smile a big stupid Inspiring you though, that just makes me giddy.
Sounds like fun. I haven't done one of these in way too long. It would be great to get a group going again.
ReplyDeleteI need to get back into the swing of things...
ReplyDeleteAnd to think I blindly followed you
ReplyDeletenow, I am all reckless stairwells
and falling sounds…my throat,
a lovely murder.
The room my thoughts built lingers,
every day new chinks glint upon its surface,
moths surround it; hell-bent on seeing it crumble.
I Throw grubs at them to keep them happy, as they shriek
distract them with song, and let this room continue
where hope keeps chaos chained,
where your huge luminous shadow keeps me agog.
My breathing has become,a ghost in me,
Haunting pages of poems
I swallow, I choke,
I cry in an *estuary*
My mind a room of ashes,
My hands as good as air,
deaf and dumb,
but in my sleep I write red-winged dreams
tufted dreams; one was of salt, and one was without hunger
that one was a fairytale forest of three-leaved trees
I thought I knew everything… (the catcall of the wronged)
but what is true, is also ruinous,( AND) is also vital
for survival
though I continue to question choices, steps, ambitions
mornings are a drowned city
gulls fall from the fog,
their voices trailing chords of …Hunger. Regret. Doubt
I heard once that absence culls the wayward,
that the derelict leaf soon ashes and turns into air
who says?
the loon? who is now brooding in isolation, or caution:
what does this mean?
I fell in the crevices, and never saw it coming..
like rain, tears, or runoff..I pooled
this dark pool of water, formed the sky’s silhouette.
no matter how stagnant, the regret..I accept it as fate
I cannot sleep, nor do I recall waking
and though I live in silence, I live in light,
My mind is a metaphor, dripping in terror of being
found out…
again I am thinking about oblivion, again,
the time, all of it, I have spent in its romance.
sassysaidit2012©All rights reserved
*An estuary is a partly enclosed coastal body of water with one or more rivers or streams flowing into it, and with a free connection to the open sea.[1]
*
mornings are a drowned city
ReplyDeletegulls fall from the fog,
their voices trailing chords of …Hunger. Regret. Doubt
I heard once that absence culls the wayward,
that the derelict leaf soon ashes and turns into air
OH MY GOD
Can you say....epic?
I fell in the crevices, and never saw it coming..
like rain, tears, or runoff..I pooled
this dark pool of water, formed the sky’s silhouette.
no matter how stagnant, the regret..I accept it as fate
I think my mind is blown. And its not like I am unaccustomed to reading you. Its just that - well, you've lost none of your edge - its like no time has passed since I read you last.
Dripping in terror of being found out. that line resonates with me on so many levels. There is this nebulous anxiety - and you've spoken to it with this piece.
Thank you.
It pleases me that you like this....I tend to ramble on, never making a point....or maybe I am making one, that just keeps repeating itself...I would like to say more with less lines....Love you Tam, thanks for leaving me some breadcrumbs, poetry is a salve
ReplyDeleteI've sloughed it off to the side - poetry - for so long when the reality is - writing is truly necessary for my sanity. It needs to come - if not first - then in the top three. It makes me smile a big stupid
ReplyDeleteInspiring you though, that just makes me giddy.