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Open Poetry #34
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| Open Poetry #34 |
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RSWells Member Elite
since 2001-06-17
Posts 2533
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To this life . . . . Three days ago were signs. The first journey beyond the mailbox in weeks passed a small field, square between the bungalows of working people, edged by winter raped saplings One, on the turning corner closest, held a huge owl. An owl, an owl in broad daylight. Full and wide unmoving, as unconcerned of me as I was amazed at he whose steely talons arrested a bare dull branch A score of paces on arose, from the weathered patch, a hawk to occupy a further starving tree, his sharp eye I tried to catch that he might tell me what this meant. He, too busy, and my eyes too old to reach I moved on Two nights ago, one before the sleepless one, I dreamt. (nearly as rare as the owl) I was returning to the home I raised my children in arriving two streets short to a labyrinth where a faceless young woman resisted my claim too slowly which became demands that she and her group get out Hours of cursing finally drove them away and I wondered through endless rooms, finding clusters of faceless people, driving them off while resisting the entry of many more who came in groups from all angles. Always I’m screaming and threatening and ending in the murder of one of them A quintet of paramedics who used wide stairs as bleachers came down and one, average everything, forgettable but the wire rim glasses, exchanged words with me ignoring my victim and they withdrew. And I awoke I cannot blame you anymore. You, you and you for this broken expedition. It was started with Anglo expectations in ruddy faced provisioning, boundless wandering with eager hands like loyal sons and feet ignorant of the earth’s spinning Somewhere its ship called hope iced in, underneath a cold edged planet and feet became gelid blocks and the wind, like a seasoned pro, always seemed to punch through to me from unguarded directions. I’ve cannibalized the meager memories after I’d allowed them to spoil long ago and lost fingers on tin edges, toes to unfeeling frostbite. I won’t apologize to anyone because there’s no one left to apologize to me Someone sits on my chest now, someone else pokes fingers into my arteries. They will never have a name. I sit on a dwindling ice floe while something dry, invisible seeps from the corners of my eyes Poets against the war is redundant |
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| © Copyright 2005 Richard S. Wells jr. - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Soulfisher Member
since 2005-01-07
Posts 226where ever the fly fishing is good |
The eyes of predators are upon you. both night(owl)and day(hawk). Carefully watching there playing feild both night and day. careful in your practice of falconry that you dont become their prey once in thier ring. Glad to see you went ahead and wrote of the birds. |
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EagleScorpion Senior Member
since 2000-03-08
Posts 1644Here, Now, Forever |
deep i have to read this again. makes you think dreamlike.. almost surreal.. but isnt everything? |
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nakdthoughts Member Laureate
since 2000-10-29
Posts 19200Between the Lines |
I don't think I was breathing through this whole poem until the end... M |
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Mysteria 
since 2001-03-07
Posts 18328British Columbia, Canada |
Sheesh, I need time for this one then I will email you my analysis  Heavy stuff, so damn sad, and very frightening. Will look for a rainbow in it somewhere, that's my nature - I'll be in touch, but in the meantime here's ma  and a suggestion to have warm milk before bed maybe? |
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Susan Member Ascendant
since 2004-03-27
Posts 5104walking the surreal |
- - - . . . - - - a surreal sense of wondering - a soul in distress? - a deep sense of seeking? - a dream quest? - interesting images and deep down thoughts Susan If I wander far enough, long enough, will I finally know . . . |
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Gentle Spirit Member Patricius
since 2000-10-09
Posts 13989 |
I am pleased to see that you wrote it out Richard, and I do believe that Susan has touched on something very real in her comments. Along with Soulfisher I too believe it a symbol for you. As to what, only you will find that answer as you travel into that journey. Heres hoping it is full of rainbows for you, and now that you wrote it, perhaps a peaceful sleep will come to you. The greatest beauty on earth, is found in the hearts of those who love.... |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Richard I believe they were signs....and also know that time may be the only one who can tell you what of. As for hope...there is always hope...just waiting for the ice to melt so it can float up.  |
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Aenimal Member Rara Avis
since 2002-11-18
Posts 7350the ass-end of space |
perfect end to a perfect piece I sit on a dwindling ice floe while something dry, invisible seeps from the corners of my eyes |
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