March 31, 2016

a blood simple abstract reality poem that came after an evening crescendo of anger and invectives (what husbands and wives do to each other when going separate ways)


photo by 'Kevin and Ann' ©
http://historicfarmhouse.blogspot.com/




I speak poet-ease 
I say please to bees 
and what have you 
to respond with 
frayed barn door hinge 
and that old tub/sink 
we used to play 
crash up derby 
with our hot wheels in...

remember how we grew up 
wanted to be sinners 
just so we could save each other 
my soul and yours

beat down to break ups 
clown makes uneven/eleven times
turns to big shoes 
and seven hats 
for seated laps to fill 

my lips 
and hips 
thirst too 

you have 
your mother's breasts 
Persephone 
I want you to spill them 
into an experience 
of what is 
the darkness loam
a poem, pen or quill 
can bleed with 

am I blue 
or red time 
coming to be fed dinner 
or am I on the tine 
am I past the line 
pointed to a no return 

can I starve meaning 
from an exhale and burn
bone ash it to page 
can I smudge pot an art form 
charcoal-ing the faces 
I have made... 
wiping my eyes with
the parts of me 
I want tattooed 
inside of you 

this is how
all the rage is 
kids, the pace 
of a future calling 
crawling through 
barns full 
of what once was...


EJR ©

13 comments:

  1. Love the passionate voice- full of rage, regrets, nostalgia, perhaps a plea for understanding ~ In relationships, there is a point of no-return, but there is also a point of rebirth ~

    Thanks for joining us and good luck in your writing journey for the coming month ~

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    Replies
    1. You're welcome and ever crawling the great mother's birth canals this poet is...thank goodness for the therapeutic qualities of the expressive arts...they are the quilt thread salvations of me I think...and thank you for stopping by...much appreciated

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  2. I echo the sentiments above - this is quite a passion filled write.

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  3. Great poem. My favorite lines: "remember how we grew up/wanted to be sinners/
    just so we could save each other/my soul and yours". Wow.

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  4. Endings are often devastating. They leave us half mad, half broken and all wild... But like Grace and your last stanza suggest, the destruction of yesterday can birth wonderful new beginnings. And the second time around, the heart tends to be smarter, stronger, and readier for anything...

    Love the tone, the rhythm, and how the speaker has channel all the hurt into something beautiful. ♥

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  5. in times of cleansing..take out that smudge pot burn the sweet grass and sage
    to dispel any negativity in your space. I don't know about charcoal-ing the faces but, perhaps smoke would create an art form. You have a strong voice filled with emotions, let it be heard.

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  6. "uneven/eleven" ... read it backwards and you get "novella new venue"

    also, "clown makes sun-heaven eleven times" ... I don't know about you, but that seems like a pretty impressive number ;)

    this is my fave:
    "can I starve meaning from an exhale and burn" ... I have a few more notes left for later ... better pace myself ;)

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  7. Powerful poem! Passion and rhythm abound. I love the last stanza.

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  8. I agree with Grace about the passionate voice. My favourite stanza:
    can I starve meaning
    from an exhale and burn
    bone ash it to page
    can I smudge pot an art form
    charcoal-ing the faces
    I have made...
    wiping my eyes with
    the parts of me
    I want tattooed
    inside of you

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  9. Love this strong, passionate voice....

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  10. Your voice is stentorian, your madness & rage palpable, your form & message & words whirl like dust bunnies in the draft, completely free to float, fly, or conspire. I loved your response to my second review of my 54 cinemagenic poems, in my BLACKTHORNE series; an audacious experiment, a fulfillment of dreams, as I become prime architect in the movie saga in my mind.

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  11. This captures the feelings of dislocation and loss and the barn door at the end. Sad and difficult times.

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  12. Urgency, like a drum beat and internal rhythms running through it - like a jungle call of passion turned virulent!

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