April 13, 2016

eating Demeter: a-gone-peddler-information poem in C ......#NaPoWriMo2016



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 


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 ©

25 comments:

  1. anger is not a flower today
    but has strong roots
    just beneath the surface
    of things left unsaid

    That's powerful stuff!!

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  2. "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.

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    1. I 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 ...

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  3. Love 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.

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    Replies
    1. Thank You ... all we can do is try sometimes ... despite any self protecting want to do otherwise ...

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  4. Replies
    1. And now I hear Lucy Van Pelt ... thank you for making me laugh ...

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  5. How 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.

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  6. How 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.

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    Replies
    1. Yes an astute observer you are ... felling myself with that love lost and found sword of Damocles ...

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  7. how to begin a poem
    about where I end .... very poignant.

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  8. I specially love this part too:

    anger 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 ~

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  9. This 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...

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    Replies
    1. Thank 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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  12. Your 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

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    Replies
    1. Appreciate you saying that ... warms to hear such ... connects with intent ...gratitude

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  13. Okay - I read this aloud. Oh my. It has so much to say about the writer's life - whomever the writer is.
    "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!



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  14. love the way this winds... such a dark conclusion-- yet i can totally identify. Thank you for sharing this with the world.

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  15. This is just loaded, Edward--so many choice phrases. Especially, this one, that caught my attention:
    anger is not a flower today
    but has strong roots
    just beneath the surface
    of things left unsaid

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  16. Amazing. Stellar. I love how real and gut-level this is.

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  17. The last stanza particularly spoke to me: the fate of the poet (or any kind of artist, really).
    I however
    am always going
    to be right here
    selling pieces of myself
    in these poems
    Perhaps not necessarily selling, but revealing - stripping naked perhaps?

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