Untitled by William Mortensen 1931 |
costumed runner at Giro D Italia |
so another glorious Spring day
replete with burgeoning sprigs of tufted lime green
shooting up from the depths of Hades has arrived
in a lying aftermath
of Persephone's leaving
her southbound palaces
the northern climes
has her mother's vines
ample and near ready
I
however have
three coins
in a pocket and
a fountain pen
how to begin a poem
about where I end
if it were
up to you
I'd be dead
and if it were
up to me
well I am
not sure
\about anything
save for wanting love
wanting to know it
wanting to feel it
wanting to understand
what being lost
in it means
no children
I have not been
a good father
nor a good husband
to your mother
and it wouldn't surprise
you or I
if we rarely see our eyes
except in the grainy universes
of shared social media platforms
anger is not a flower today
but has strong roots
just beneath the surface
of things left unsaid
best I cry this poem
all by myself
and let the salt
run down my face
imagine some place pretty
or at least some where
failure is not staring me down
a rabbit hole
where souls go
when strung out
to the thinnest possible margins
this life held by a thread
of what once was
palms full of look what I got for us
is just a story buried in a magazine
nobody is going to buy
but it does fill the rack
when passersby mill through
to where they have to be
I however
am always going
to be right here
selling pieces of myself
in these poems
wading the ripe(s)
while hoping to some day
stop running for a panacea
that never arrives
while accepting poisons
that do
EJR ©
anger is not a flower today
ReplyDeletebut has strong roots
just beneath the surface
of things left unsaid
That's powerful stuff!!
Interesting piece.
ReplyDelete"how to begin a poem / about where I end" is undoubtedly my favorite line. i love the pulse of this poem - it doesn't flow smoothly, and the line breaks sometimes make it seem like you're searching for words, or hesitating, or faltering. either way it enhances the atmosphere, and contributes to a raw piece.
ReplyDeleteI cried writing this ... I wasn't necessarily looking for a rhythm, which I normally do, this time I wanted it to be a bit jarring when reading ... think of some of the hanging dialogue silences and awkward at that in "Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf" with Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor ...
DeleteLove this. The way your poem takes mythology and social media into a room and makes them dance with each other is just fantastic. I feel bad for the speaker, even if I'm not sure what kept him from being a good parent or husband. The way his bare his soul speaks of regret, of exploration, or beginnings towards trying to make things better.
ReplyDeleteThank You ... all we can do is try sometimes ... despite any self protecting want to do otherwise ...
DeleteGood grief!
ReplyDeleteZQ
And now I hear Lucy Van Pelt ... thank you for making me laugh ...
DeleteHow to begin a poem...So another glorious spring day...and we are then pulled into dark mythology and shallow modern communication, lots of bitterness in this and much sadness. Selling oneself - a tragedy.
ReplyDeleteHow to begin a poem...So another glorious spring day...and we are then pulled into dark mythology and shallow modern communication, lots of bitterness in this and much sadness. Selling oneself - a tragedy.
ReplyDeleteYes an astute observer you are ... felling myself with that love lost and found sword of Damocles ...
Deletehow to begin a poem
ReplyDeleteabout where I end .... very poignant.
I specially love this part too:
ReplyDeleteanger is not a flower today
but has strong roots
just beneath the surface
of things left unsaid
Poisoned or not, we all have dreams for that panacea ~ Enjoyed the blending of myth and tech reality ~
Thank You ... = ^ )
DeleteThis sounds like you wept a 100 words or more, it raw and vulnerable..selling pieces of yourself or offering them for free? Sometimes it is best to cry out those poems by oneself. I have cried too many time and written too many words...some I share and some I burn...
ReplyDeleteThank You ... I incorporated the burning imagery into this morning's write ... so right are thee about the letting go aspects of exposing your raw parts for public consumption
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ReplyDeleteYour poems always make me think that extra mile.. The weaving of mythology to modern days always make my day (even in reflection).. Like a poem cried, so much more vivid than a bleeding pen. Great work
ReplyDeleteAppreciate you saying that ... warms to hear such ... connects with intent ...gratitude
DeleteOkay - I read this aloud. Oh my. It has so much to say about the writer's life - whomever the writer is.
ReplyDelete"I
however have
three coins
in a pocket and
a fountain pen
how to begin a poem
about where I end "
and those lines set it up. And this "if we rarely see our eyes except in the grainy universes
of shared social media platforms" is a real danger today, isn't it? I see so many young families in a restaurant with every head down, thumbs tapping or fingers swiping or eyes glazed watching -- with no conversation -- no connection.
The rabbit hole is the danger for many of us -- relationships take relationing - a made-up word that says a lot, right?
Your writing weaves a journey and the reader's mind follows the thread and you always take us to a place where we go, uh huh -- right. I get that! :)
This is just a really really good one! Thank you for posting!
love the way this winds... such a dark conclusion-- yet i can totally identify. Thank you for sharing this with the world.
ReplyDeleteThis is just loaded, Edward--so many choice phrases. Especially, this one, that caught my attention:
ReplyDeleteanger is not a flower today
but has strong roots
just beneath the surface
of things left unsaid
Amazing. Stellar. I love how real and gut-level this is.
ReplyDeleteThe last stanza particularly spoke to me: the fate of the poet (or any kind of artist, really).
ReplyDeleteI however
am always going
to be right here
selling pieces of myself
in these poems
Perhaps not necessarily selling, but revealing - stripping naked perhaps?