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 ©
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 ~
ReplyDeleteThanks for joining us and good luck in your writing journey for the coming month ~
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
DeleteI echo the sentiments above - this is quite a passion filled write.
ReplyDeleteGreat poem. My favorite lines: "remember how we grew up/wanted to be sinners/
ReplyDeletejust so we could save each other/my soul and yours". Wow.
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...
ReplyDeleteLove the tone, the rhythm, and how the speaker has channel all the hurt into something beautiful. ♥
in times of cleansing..take out that smudge pot burn the sweet grass and sage
ReplyDeleteto 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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ReplyDeletePowerful poem! Passion and rhythm abound. I love the last stanza.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Grace about the passionate voice. My favourite stanza:
ReplyDeletecan 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
Love this strong, passionate voice....
ReplyDeleteYour 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.
ReplyDeleteThis captures the feelings of dislocation and loss and the barn door at the end. Sad and difficult times.
ReplyDeleteUrgency, like a drum beat and internal rhythms running through it - like a jungle call of passion turned virulent!
ReplyDelete