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Open Poetry #31
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Parts Of Memory Never Age
| Open Poetry #31 |
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Parts Of Memory Never Age |
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icebox Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383in the shadows 
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Sitting here alone looking out on quiet peaceful fields, watching Nature packing up the rest of Winter's melting tears, I know Springtime will bring flowers; I remember through the years the other fields that I have known, the borrowed fields, bloody empty fields, the stalking fields of doom, I wonder how they've changed today if soon they'll be in bloom. I wonder why, on this first soft pink dawn of late Winter timidly trying on Spring for size, I began to think about the night I put you down; without question you were a rabid barely human beast without the least shred of morally redeeming value. Memory, they say, is tied into the senses and the slightest trigger can slice through all defenses and amnesiac barricades; perhaps it is in the comfortable scent, that came with sipping the perfect counterpoint of cardamom laced light roast coffee while toasting homemade bread, that I remembered paradox in the comfort of leaving the dead behind me; still I wonder why I thought it would be nice to know if finally you understand why you are dead. Listening to ballads and broken hearts Simone, Williams, McLachlan, laced with Willy Nelson offering anesthesia, I am comfortable; yet today the flash is there each time I close my eyes, the single tongue of genteel controlled lightning, the almost perfect violence of artificial silence, polite in their own way frightening in their simplicity, voiding for all time appeals supporting any circumstantial case for sympathy. I remember, I slept like a baby when I returned that night to the deceptive world of planned civility, hired help having settled privately a public debt some media darling politician, with clean fingernails and a perfect suit, had decided was too awkward, too horrid in abstract conception, too threatening to popularity polls, too real to own in public. ©2004 by icebox |
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| © Copyright 2004 icebox - All Rights Reserved | |||
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inkedgoddess Member Rara Avis
since 2002-11-19
Posts 7392Ohio |
wonder why, on this first soft pink dawn of late Winter timidly trying on Spring for size, I began to think about the night I put you down; without question this took my thoughts.. for some unknown reason this morning over some fruitloops and chamomile i could swear i felt the first daffodils breathing on my shoulder |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
icebox "it is in the comfortable scent, that came with sipping the perfect counterpoint of cardamom laced light roast coffee while toasting homemade bread, that I remembered paradox" It is hard to reply to the honesty in this poem...you have been to so many dark places, and yet I see your light. *hugs* |
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iliana Member Patricius
since 2003-12-05
Posts 13434USA |
What a fascinating poem this one is. I have read it three times now and still not come to any conclusion except that...words can kill, and words can bring to life, words can sparkle...words can throw a knife. I also enjoy and appreciate your exquisite writing style. |
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passing shadows Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577displaced |
gawd! I love your mind! |
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Youngatheart Member
since 2003-12-30
Posts 333 |
I really liked this, Icebox. Y. [This message has been edited by Youngatheart (02-22-2004 06:13 AM).] |
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Elizabeth Santos Member Rara Avis
since 1999-11-08
Posts 9269Pennsylvania |
"Sitting here alone looking out on quiet peaceful fields, watching Nature packing up the rest of Winter's melting tears, I know Springtime will bring flowers; I remember through the years the other fields that I have known, the borrowed fields, bloody empty fields, the stalking fields of doom, I wonder how they've changed today if soon they'll be in bloom." This is absolutely exquisite writing |
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scorpio Member Ascendant
since 2002-10-02
Posts 5178right...there |
Powerful. I can only imagine the true reason behind this write. I've read it several times. But I'm not confident in deciding just lies buried here Icebox. But this is a powerful poem. believe in what your heart feels... |
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