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bsquirrel
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Member Rara Avis
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855


0 posted 2003-03-20 12:46 PM


It hurts to watch a whisper,
a poem as it dies.
Its leaves and thorns unknown,
its petals unexpressed.

The head is wilt and scent,
drooping to the earth.
Cannot thrive among
modern thoughts of sense.

The verses unremembered,
the flavor just recalled.
A tint to wash the windows
in some rainy light.

And when I watch the sea,
sometimes the words come.
Standing near the shore.
Sometimes, waiting there.

Aperture of light
shredded on sharp stones.
This poem died right here,
nameless and alone.

Stella was a diver and she was always down.
Interpol

© Copyright 2003 MPC - All Rights Reserved
Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612
Hurricane Alley
1 posted 2003-03-20 06:16 AM


This is a bit different for you but I like it.


Does a poem die if it's not read? I don't think so. Doesn't it live in the poet's heart?

wandering glider
Senior Member
since 2001-04-04
Posts 501
aloft
2 posted 2003-03-20 11:40 AM


The poems that die are the ones that somehow didn't get written.  
Stillborn as it were.
Love it while you write it and then let it go I say.

w.g.

Marge Tindal
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Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384
Florida's Foreverly Shores
3 posted 2003-03-20 11:43 AM


BSquirrel~
What reflective poetic thoughts~

As a poem is born ...
it lives in the heart of the poet
and if we're fortunate
it's shared with someone else~

This thought alone is brilliantly inspiring-

'It hurts to watch a whisper,
a poem as it dies.'


Really felt GOOD to read this~
Thank you~
*Huglets*
~*Marge*~

~*The pen of the poet never runs out of ink, as long as we breathe.*~
noles1@totcon.com                        

bsquirrel
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Member Rara Avis
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855

4 posted 2003-03-20 11:59 AM


Glad you all enjoyed. Someone close to me pulled their poems before they had a chance to be chosen for the book, so this is the poem that resulted.
Local Parasite
Deputy Moderator 10 Tours
Member Elite
since 2001-11-05
Posts 2527
Transylconia, Winnipeg
5 posted 2003-03-20 04:11 PM


When I read this, I had in mind the way that you can stand someplace and just be so awestruck with what you're seeing that you can't bring it to poetry, and you feel like your poem is "dying" before it even gets to be written, "nameless and alone."  Your reply told me I was wrong, but I don't care how wrong I am... that's what it made me think of.  

You've got a gift for dark poetry that I wish I could borrow for a few days.  Even melancholy, like the kind you use here, seems dark with your style.  

Oh, and rainy light is now my favourite kind of light.

Brilliant piece, fabulously written.  Definitely the best you've posted in quite a while.  This goes to my private library.

Parasite

"Faith" means the will to avoid knowing what is true.
~ Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

bsquirrel
Deputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Rara Avis
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855

6 posted 2003-03-20 05:26 PM


Thanks, Parasite. It means a lot to me when you take the time to read my dribblings of thought.

And you aren't too far off in your interpretation. That was a sub-thought in my head while writing this -- that sometimes a poem can't be written because the truth of the matter would shame it, if that makes any sense.

And thanks for saying I write dark well. On the opposite end, you can say "you don't write light well at all." Believe me, I tried to write light for a long time before accepting that yeah, I do write dark, and that's cool with me.


fractal007
Senior Member
since 2000-06-01
Posts 1958

7 posted 2003-03-23 04:16 AM


This poem brought me back to life here sitting alone in my tired stupor!  I think this is my favourite poem by you to date.  The images you've combined here are spectacular, each lending itself in one way or another to the socially and intellectually critical barrage this poem delivers.  

The verses unremembered,
the flavor just recalled.
A tint to wash the windows
in some rainy light.


I really liked this stanza.  It was very rocking.  The names and words of important things long gone have now become common words for matter-of-fact things such as the colour of a window or the style of a particular object.  

Finally, the war imagery at the end of this poem was beautifully drawn.  Keep writing!  I've a feeling my library's gonna get pretty full soon.

2+2=5 for sufficiently large values of 2
--Smit
My Creations

wranx
Member Elite
since 2002-06-07
Posts 3689
Moved from a shack to a barn
8 posted 2003-03-24 12:52 PM


This is really very good Mikey. In a very quiet way.
bsquirrel
Deputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Rara Avis
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855

9 posted 2003-03-24 02:33 PM


Thank you both. And great to see you again, wranx.
Midnitesun
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Empyrean
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647
Gaia
10 posted 2003-03-24 06:01 PM


The death of a poem..what a sad thought, yet many times they seem to die in the birthing process. And yet, perhaps they are merely in the egg/seed state, not yet ready to be born?
Enjoyed this write, M.

bsquirrel
Deputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Rara Avis
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855

11 posted 2003-03-24 07:19 PM


Thank you, K.
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