April 7, 2016

placed in service of cobbler elves .....................................................#NaPoWriMo2016 ...turn me on dead man number nine poem





in 1917 we got nine gates opened 
for the folks who somehow
 forgot how to be sweet

it was in the spring tides where there were 
trees that bloomed before the grasses 

these little reach bombs 
for being taken with after winter 
for sake and hold little bracelets 
dollops and traipses 
path skipping to the loo(s) 
my darling I wear 
my escapist dreams 
very clearly towards 
a home I am never quite 
sure of knowing...

did or do I know
they are all born 
in places like sugar cane fields 
where have you been I been we been 
where haven't I stolen into you 
where wear wears you where I can't reach you... 

we once said 
we'd never forget 
our story so try 
stone letters we knew 
ewe could carry home 

we can park 
here, seas of charcoal smolder 
in a raw cling to
the seasons 
little bracelets burn 
s-ees dunes 
oceans tongue 
river to rain
old mountains 
to shores lined
with tales 
in the grains 
you can tell 
this one smelled  
of the hopper and ant  
an old men selling 
rice and caution 
against being lazy 
i never listened...

yes those were plants and bees 
littlebraceletsfindmebeggingplease
youknewtoaskkindforgets
iknowido
wanttoreach 
meMayU
little brace let me walk 
a lit belle race lit tell taste  
where I last wore myself 
with what I earned 
from living well 

the best times I ever had 
I never had to find myself 
all grown up 
working hard in...

pollen in lace beets  
brace for pace beats 
lets me net fish 
stocks the ponds 
watches legs wear 
little bracelets too 
anklets darling, now 
I need new shoes

EJR ©

20 comments:

  1. Wild escapism that launches into surreal connections with hints of inner realities. A fascinating read.

    ReplyDelete
  2. what I fell asleep to

    the music of you
    crying little diamonds
    to keep me marrow warm
    against your anklet-n-night
    we were walking beaches
    hearing surf say
    it was alive
    when they
    were mountains

    EJR ©

    ReplyDelete
  3. I feel like you pass through dreams and mares... Is the bracelet in reality a cuff?

    ReplyDelete
  4. Fascinating how one line weaves into the other and draws the reader down, down, down the steps or into the depths. I enjoyed!

    ReplyDelete
  5. that was a wild walk through those gates - feels like a hallucination - enjoyed the read

    ReplyDelete
  6. Surreal journey down the rabbit hole of words, though there is a thread of being lost and trying to recall what was important, even though it'd be easier just to stay lost.

    ReplyDelete
  7. When I use years in poems, I sometimes mean them to represent the ages of two people. So here, I see two carefree kids ("opening gates" and running through fields ... at least inside their hearts); they are 19 and 17 ... this is a memory of when they first fell in love, before the world became something so tainted. Back then, they believed all healing could be found in each other's arms.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh, and I really like the nod to ee cummings. Also the way you described the internal srength it takes to carry "stone letters" or heavy words or communications.

      Delete
  8. Beautifully crafted piece with such an intense usage of diction.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Surreal, There is a melding of freedom with restriction...Prisoner with a mind that is free of an ankle chain.. This will take several readings and that is a good thing. Thanks so much for writing and sharing your work in the garden.

    ReplyDelete
  10. I most love:
    my darling I wear
    my escapist dreams
    very clearly towards
    a home I am never quite
    sure of knowing...

    Wow. A poem with great movement that waltzed me down the page.

    ReplyDelete
  11. Of all this captures me:

    "seas of charcoal smolder
    in a raw cling to
    the seasons
    little bracelets burn "

    Great write!

    ReplyDelete
  12. You have a great flow going here. I became quite caught up in the stream of consciousness (if somewhat in need of unravelling at times, and back-pedalling). So much to admire, but especially this:

    my darling I wear
    my escapist dreams
    very clearly towards
    a home I am never quite
    sure of knowing...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. PS. I see I'm not the only one to single out those lines.
      I know the good stuff when I see it.

      Delete
  13. These are the lines that caught me
    "the best times I ever had
    I never had to find myself
    all grown up
    working hard in..." An interesting journey this one, I know I will gain more and more by reading again and again :-)

    ReplyDelete
  14. Love this, especially:
    "and hold little bracelets
    dollops and traipses
    path skipping to the loo(s)"

    ReplyDelete
  15. I don't usually like this kind of poetry but when you do it I love it. There is mystery and whimsy in the wordplay, and also meaning, multiple meanings. And you make it so beautifully evocative, I almost become the speaker myself.

    ReplyDelete
  16. As always you are the paramour of words, Edward. This begs for sound, for the sibilance of lips as I mumble it out aloud and still like seawater it hisses away, teasing my ankles, tempting me in deeper. There is love, war and wreck here, shellshock and trauma, along with all the purity of a surprised beauty. Such a pleasure to see you at toad's.

    ReplyDelete
  17. you have a clarity of voice amidst chaos - or rather, not chaos, but complexity ~

    ReplyDelete