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The dreams dreamt during a thousand daily dances
play willingly through my outstretched arms
as I shake, to the broken beats of another man’s drum
placing my finger’s under the soles of his alligator shoe’s
smiling in spite, dark careworn face’s
horribly pitted and aged under the fluorescent lights
The proper position which promises comfort
lost to the river
flowing coldly in us all
the question becoming not, can you feel the chill?
But whether it alters your step, pooling in your soles
Shoes weighted in the loss of joy
In the meadow I dance a waltz
Flawless in its form
Snow swirling in spirals of encouragement
Serving to settle in the recently pressed tracks
Of my wildest dance
The tree’s lines come into motion
In stiff resistance under the weight of winter ice like tears collecting in place
the piled pillows of unseasonable life
left only to be shaken off, bitterly,
tumbling in sheets, to collect on the forest floor.
Snow falls, the air is dry,
Splashing still on piled roofs creating an illusion of rain
As lightning flares above the crested hills
Thunder echoes, long out of season,
Awesome and strange
As nature is known to be
The sky rains snow, as notion circles long into the hours of darkness
Next morning will awaken fresh and new
Like a cleaned whiteboard, or marks in sand washed over
Retaining still slight traces of yesterday’s path
So you can remember that nothing has changed.
-Grim
Last edited by Grim on Thu Apr 16, 2009 5:07 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Nice, Grim! Thanks for posting an original poem. I like the last bit --
Like a cleaned whiteboard, or marks in sand washed over
Retaining still slight traces of yesterday’s path
So you can remember that nothing has changed.
If you want I'll make a suggestion, but will keep it to myself if you say.
_________________ Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads ~ Henry David Thoreau
“People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child — our own two eyes. All is a miracle.” -Thich Nhat Hahn
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Grim wrote:
Saffron wrote:
If you want I'll make a suggestion, but will keep it to myself if you say.
Please, don't keep anything to yourself for my benefit.
Grim: I really like the last part of the poem --
Snow falls, the air is dry,
Splashing still on piled roofs creating an illusion of rain
As lightning flares above the crested hills
Thunder echoes, long out of season,
Awesome and strange
As nature is known to be
The sky rains snow, as notion circles long into the hours of darkness
Next morning will awaken fresh and new
Like a cleaned whiteboard, or marks in sand washed over
Retaining still slight traces of yesterday’s path
So you can remember that nothing has changed.
-------------------------
I would say that you could do away with "or marks in the sand washed over". You get that across nicely with the white board. I also think that the poem needs just a tiny bit of work to unify it. I need to think about this just a little bit more, but I believe it would be stronger if the five sections hung together or had something to tie them together tighter. Maybe a title that pulled all the pieces together?
_________________ Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads ~ Henry David Thoreau
“People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child — our own two eyes. All is a miracle.” -Thich Nhat Hahn
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Grim, I just posted a poem by Li-young Lee on the ABC's of Poetry thread that does a splendid job of what I was trying to say your poem needed. The poem is "Persimmons." Lee uses two words, precision (of language) and persimmon, to lead the reader from one image to the next. The important thing is that the appearance of persimmons in one stanza informs the image or idea that he is linking it to in the next. The persimmon in Lee's poem is like a spot they used to do on Sesame Street. You see the image of say, a piggy bank, the camera moves around the piggy bank, zooming in on one aspect of it and simultaneously it changes to a different image that exactly fits the shape of the last zoomed-in image of the piggy bank. In this way, Lee creates a guide rope for the reader to hold on to as he/she moves through the poem. The reader is shown how the images are linked and come together to form a whole.
Now here is a piece of my own that I've been playing with --
Poem
to get so near the truth
it nicks like a razor
not a gash, no
to the bone quick
and sudden without warning
all the way without effort
it cuts without pain
until eyes see blood
_________________ Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads ~ Henry David Thoreau
“People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child — our own two eyes. All is a miracle.” -Thich Nhat Hahn
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All of my poems are very depressing because I only write them when i'm feeling a strong emotion that's not happiness... But, since you asked:
Forgotten
Forgotten feelings cloud my mind,
My current emotions have kept me blind,
Forgotten love, forgotten bliss,
I couldn’t see so I didn’t notice.
Instead of love I feel hate,
And I’m too easy to irritate,
Anger stabs my heart like a knife,
Unhappiness overtakes my life.
I wish tears would fall and that I could cry,
It seems like wishes I make simply die,
It seems like all hopes flicker out,
I always have to stop and doubt.
Pessimistic as always—think of the worst,
Fate has scarred me and I'm cursed.
Sorrow fills me up to the brim,
Good memories are so dim,
Optimistic thoughts have disappeared,
My kind “painting” has been smeared,
Angry thoughts have made me mean,
I shove aside those awful scenes,
Guilt then suddenly pops up,
I feel like a volcano waiting to erupt.
I try to change and feel different,
I try to smooth out every dent,
I try to put everything back in place,
I try to show rapture on my face.
But things go terribly wrong,
I can’t keep them together for long,
Things get too bizarre,
And then good feelings are
Forgotten once again.
_________________ "The world has caught on fire, from what I've been told." - Picture Perfect (In Your Eyes) by 10 Years
"Innocence is ugly in the one who is guilty." - Fault Line by 10 Years
"Fools who are looking backwards chose to live as statues, frozen fractured; youthful laughter fades." - Dying Youth by 10 Years
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Saffron wrote:
DWill wrote:
Do you think there could be a way of changing or even eliminating the introduction of the first two lines? They could be too, I don't know, expository. Maybe when you do think of a title, that would give a little bit of direction for the reader if you thought the poem still needed it? DWill
Yes, you are right about the first two lines. I knew they were a problem and I know it is the title that will replace them. This is the precise reason why the poem is a work in progress. The original poem is somewhat longer. I've already pulled a few other lines like the first two. I really am trying to give the reader credit by just putting down the images and allowing him/her to make what he or she will and not hit him/her over the head with the idea.
....humm, how about In Bed as the title...no, not quite there. I know what I was meaning to get at, now if I can just find the words to pull it all together....
You may not even remember this anymore (it's from almost a year ago, and way earlier in the thread), Saffron, but I found your poem about making sense of the world very evocative. I liked the first two lines (even though DWill and you were talking about how to get rid of them). After reading them, a thought that occurred to me was "Trying to make sense of a world that doesn't".
And I'd like to share a poem of my own. This came to me years ago, I don't even remember when now, but it keeps coming back.
Feeling Fat
I'm feeling fat
And there's a reason for that
... though I don't really like to admit it.
I've been eating too much
Of cookies and such
... and I'm going to have to quit it.
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tbarron wrote:
You may not even remember this anymore (it's from almost a year ago, and way earlier in the thread), Saffron, but I found your poem about making sense of the world very evocative. I liked the first two lines (even though DWill and you were talking about how to get rid of them). After reading them, a thought that occurred to me was "Trying to make sense of a world that doesn't".
tbarron,
Thanks for your comments and for posting your own poem. Wow, I posted that poem almost exactly a year ago, 10/17/08! I love how poems keep revisiting -- those we write and those we love. Your post prompted me to revisit my poem and has given me an idea!
**this work still in progress!
Night Melancholy/Surrender (????)
Restless with the little hurts leftover from the day
(something is missing here) stepped on when not attending,
like when I was a kid in the summer
walking to the store for penny candy
popping tar bubbles with my big toe,
yellow line conversation,
and the shards of shattered bottles stepped on.
Surrendering to the discomfort of my bones and the weigh of his arm
so that I can stay in close, pulled up to his chest
to feel the gentle rise and fall
listening to the rattle of his head cold
hoping the sound will carry me up and over the sadness
to rest and relief
--better I think, almost there.
If you are out there DWill, what do you think? Any better?
_________________ Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads ~ Henry David Thoreau
“People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child — our own two eyes. All is a miracle.” -Thich Nhat Hahn
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Re: Original Poetry
Shine One Light Of Hope Written By: Wendy Spickerman - Scotti 1987
Walk me into my ages Dance me into my growth Watch me sleep through my illness Shine one light of hope
Blow winds blow my tears dry Sun shine down on my smile Give me strength when you Leave me alone
Let me walk you through your ages Let me dance you through your growth I'll watch you sleep through your illness Shine one light of hope Shine one light of hope
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Re: Original Poetry
Normally I do not write poetry. However, one day while doing an assignment for creative writing I did manage this one. I just had to get it off my chest because Word was driving me crazy!
Bill Gates; Poet
If I see one more red line while writing a poem, I think I’m going to scream. The screen telling me my grammar is all wrong- A misspelled word here, wrong punctuation there, How does it know what I want?
How does someone sitting in the programming office, At Microsoft know whether or not my word in a new line, Needs to be capitalized or the end of my sentence needs a period!
Listen here, Bill Gates, if I want to put the word ain’t In my poem, get off my back it is where it’s supposed to be. If I didn’t listen to my 11th grade English teacher, What makes you think I am going to listen to you now?
Get off my screen and invent something, or better yet Do the damn poem for me, since you seem to have Perfect grammar and an infinite thesaurus.
Another long green line sits above this one Demanding that I revise, revise, revise!
Ah Bill Gates, mathematician, Scientist, Computer God, Poet.
_________________ Every man's life ends the same way. It is only the details of how he lived and how he died that distinguish one man from another. ~ Ernest Hemingway
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Re: Original Poetry
GaryG48 wrote:
With a tip of the cap to George Will, who said he wrote political commentary to pay for his Baseball jones, here is my plea for real baseball.
No Roof, No Rug
Very nice Gary! Brings back happy thoughts to think of baseball. I loved to listen to ball games on the radio as a little girl falling asleep at my grandparents house.
_________________ Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads ~ Henry David Thoreau
“People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child — our own two eyes. All is a miracle.” -Thich Nhat Hahn
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