Last Rites

[CicatrixESP]

............................

 

[sophieloves]

oh............................... just
oh

 

[sophieloves]

powerwrite

 

[CicatrixESP]

ty sophie..

 

[wildsweetone]

hope you don't mind if i add a poem, triggered from your poem.




...


Somewhere over those yellow mounds
stands a man, watching
for slight movement - yellow on yellow,
the mulch of history between specks of dust
brought on yellow storms - yellow on yellow -
his straight arm and steady eye
protecting a people
against their own.

Somewhere over those yellow mounds
a child weeps for a lost toy,
a mother carries water from a truck,
a soldier plays baseball with kids.

Somewhere over those yellow mounds
the sun rises and sets,
the water runs clear
and grass grows in abundance.

 

[CicatrixESP]

hope you don't mind if i add a poem, triggered from your poem.




...


Somewhere over those yellow mounds
stands a man, watching
for slight movement - yellow on yellow,
the mulch of history between specks of dust
brought on yellow storms - yellow on yellow -
his straight arm and steady eye
protecting a people
against their own.

Somewhere over those yellow mounds
a child weeps for a lost toy,
a mother carries water from a truck,
a soldier plays baseball with kids.

Somewhere over those yellow mounds
the sun rises and sets,
the water runs clear
and grass grows in abundance.

Oh I don't mind at all--a lovely addition; everyone's more than welcome

 

[CicatrixESP]

Indigina

By boarded houses by the by
On blank streets where wet winter
Swears on ripped shoeleather
As salt stains flame insults
To clamber up the pantleg

Cold as Canadian winter as is,
Such as is,
The smell of sherry malts the air
As she speaks
Once proud heritage now suet faced and frostbitten

All of this for a quarter
Twenty-five of one
And if I give it she'll be back
Perhaps on my doorstep
All for the futiility of self-destruction

I gave in the first time,
On the hundreth, I looked away,
As that sherry malted air oppressed me
I felt dimly lit and less light
Neither wrong, but neither right.

 

[CicatrixESP]

Wreckium

Summer gone cool in August
At 3 a.m. a police car pulls away
Making me think I did something I didn't
From the windows I can see light escaping
And on approach I know bodies move inside

Everyone awake and murmuring
A fearsome murmur from the darkened porch
A slow swing on brass hinges
A door opening that will never close
As unnatural light floods me like a 3 a.m sunrise

Murmurs erase under a tide of coherence
Until my father's lips move
And white noise washes over me
Drubbing me and drowning me
In meaning that has no meaning

The downturned mouth of my mother
Grotesque as it is beautiful
Tears--new roadmaps
Glistening in the 3 a.m. dawn
While the light is gone from their eyes

And with the damage and the dying done
The sound of a heart breaking can be heard
Like glass underfoot
Like the first shot that started a war
The weight of water now upon us
We crumple like delicate things
In an Ocean we never name.

 

[Unbridled_Passion]

WOW! This poem is very touching!

 

[sophieloves]

Summer gone cool in August
At 3 a.m. a police car pulls away
Making me think I did something I didn't
From the windows I can see light escaping
And on approach I know bodies move inside

Everyone awake and murmuring
A fearsome murmur from the darkened porch
A slow swing on brass hinges
A door opening that will never close
As unnatural light floods me like a 3 a.m sunrise

Murmurs erase under a tide of coherence
Until my father's lips move
And white noise washes over me
Drubbing me and drowning me
In meaning that has no meaning

The downturned mouth of my mother
Grotesque as it is beautiful
Tears--new roadmaps
Glistening in the 3 a.m. dawn
While the light is gone from their eyes

And with the damage and the dying done
The sound of a heart breaking can be heard
Like glass underfoot
Like the first shot that started a war
The weight of water now upon us
We crumple like delicate things
In an Ocean we never name.

this feels real. if it is the relating of a true personal event you did so well to keep it 'right' (not sure of how best to say what i mean there but i think you understand)... if the relating of a generic event, then the way you captured that personal feel is exceptional, imo. it still feels real, like the loss of a brother, or a sister.

these lines... so - well they are just wonderful lines:

Summer gone cool in August
At 3 a.m. a police car pulls away
Making me think I did something I didn't

As unnatural light floods me like a 3 a.m sunrise

And white noise washes over me
Drubbing me and drowning me
In meaning that has no meaning

While the light is gone from their eyes

The sound of a heart breaking can be heard
Like glass underfoot

The weight of water now upon us
We crumple like delicate things
In an Ocean we never name



it feels like a car accident. i love this poem.

 

[Honey123]

I'm not sure if something has happened to a relative of yours recently, or these are poems that are coming out from something that has happened in the past...but your words are beautiful...sad, yet beautiful..meaningful.

They scream with pain, anguish, love and that all too familiar knowledge that someone, who you love dearly, has died.

I can only offer you words from a place far from you...but I hope you know that should you need a shoulder, you can always call upon me.

 

[champagne1982]

I am really glad to be reading these poems. You've gifted me with some excellent poetry. You write emotional and dark pieces. Have you got anything expressing joy and fun? I'd like to see how you handle a brighter write.

 

[CicatrixESP]

Well thank you everyone. I won't sully the poetry by explaining it, but I appreciate everyone's opinion and insight. A nice morning surprise. Thank you.

Champagne, yes, unfortunately, I seem to have morose inspirations. But every once in a while I have, less morose ones, though oddly not where I'm staying (i.e. written but not readily at my disposal) I posted this on 'writing live' as that's what it was, and of those I felt one that wasn't pure junk. And also inspired by someone I like, entitled, 'Lightness'

Those lilting legs catching sunlight
like flashes in picture frames
As the breeze steals perfumed air
from swales of your frame.

Settling whorls of you
Kissing blessings on tremulant grass
A broken insignificance
Now a significant past

And those kisses you suspire
Are the treasures that I found
With your heart like childrens feet
On the rolling summer ground

 

[sophieloves]

this dances x

 

[CicatrixESP]

Perceptions

This should have been in writing live as I started it at lunch. But then had to get back to work. Thought--erase? or no? So I saved it in notepad thus disqualifying it. However, something I wanted to finish, no matter how rough.

When I dropped the words
That scattered like runes
That read so different
Than meant for you
From marrow to mane
To the fingertips
And back again
From perigee to apogee
From poets to pedantics
It's the space between
That makes the fraction
That is the distance
Between words and action
The gap between earth and ceiling
The untouched nerve
Like art revealing
The distancing
Between you and I
Are the runes I scattered
In that sky
And for all that space
In between
I'd rather it fill with what it meant

Not what it seems.

 

[Honey123]

This should have been in writing live as I started it at lunch. But then had to get back to work. Thought--erase? or no? So I saved it in notepad thus disqualifying it. However, something I wanted to finish, no matter how rough.

When I dropped the words
That scattered like runes
That read so different
Than meant for you
From marrow to mane
To the fingertips
And back again
From perigee to apogee
From poets to pedantics
It's the space between
That makes the fraction
That is the distance
Between words and action
The gap between earth and ceiling
The untouched nerve
Like art revealing
The distancing
Between you and I
Are the runes I scattered
In that sky
And for all that space
In between
I'd rather it fill with what it meant

Not what it seems.

So very happy you chose to save it!

 

[wildsweetone]

Loss

You skulk behind closed eyes
waiting for a spectrum of hope
to enter, to re-light your way
knowing it will not. It is time
to say goodbye
to that naive love.

It is dead and I no longer wait
for its return.

There are gifts in its passing -
freedom to forget,
encouragement in stepping forward
and enlightenment that banishes
the black void that was your niche.

You are finished
and I am ready to begin.

 

[CicatrixESP]

Descent

Thanks for the addition wildsweetone. Another one i started on writing live but had too many brain farts to finish (it kind of shows):

Your damaged tongue
The plague of locusts
That dragged the chains
And lost the focus
The burnished brain
to drunken prodigy
Scattering gems
That she laid out for thee

The contrition made
For the attrition paid
For the best plans laid
Gang aft a gley

So nurse those wounds
Or whatever you do
When you spite the gift
In front of you

 

[sophieloves]

well now, CicatrixESP - what a way to start the morning. i went through this thread of yours, beginning to end, finding one i'd missed previously, with this opening verse:

By boarded houses by the by
On blank streets where wet winter
Swears on ripped shoeleather
As salt stains flame insults
To clamber up the pantleg

plus new ones you've recently added. your writing is a gift to the reader. your writing is very visual, and as i read it's like watching it roll out in front of my eyes... but more than that, the elements used such as the sense of taste with your lines

The smell of sherry malts the air
As she speaks

it permeates the whole piece, if you understand what i mean. sorry, i'm not very clear this morning.

then these words - i could only ever hope to write something as 'right' as they are:

Once proud heritage now suet faced and frostbitten

you gift the reader with some unflinching images - like this 'suet faced and frostbitten', and your other that immediately springs to mind 'With your heart like childrens feet/On the rolling summer ground'.

your latest here is another write that is contained - the clipped lines feeling like suppressed anger. i will always watch your work, it always rewards the reader. thankyou

 

[CicatrixESP]

...if you understand what i mean. sorry, i'm not very clear this morning.

Thank you sophie...your critique's mean a lot to me...and you were very clear I thought. Thank you.

 

[CicatrixESP]

diaspora

You told me my torn shirt
Was the lopsided armour that covered you
And in the dusk that dimmed the room
You looked bronze with age
Brows shadowing sockets where eyes smoldered

If you were a photograph
The onlooker would wonder
Whether it was desperation or divine
Captured in silver salts

Your exit, exodus
Of years of love
To the diaspora
That made my shortcomings
You in lopsided armour and intimates
It hurts to see beauty reject you

And when you discover
There are no muscles in the hand
And no pauses in the pulse
And the 23rd Psalm
Rings more true than more false

In that moment
Tears can water flowers
In this hothouse of ours
And the motion of our hands
Are fueled by the muscles of our hearts

And then maybe you'll wear
That armour again
And I can straighten it
When I get back home again

 

[Honey123]

You told me my torn shirt
Was the lopsided armour that covered you
And in the dusk that dimmed the room
You looked bronze with age
Brows shadowing sockets where eyes smoldered

If you were a photograph
The onlooker would wonder
Whether it was desperation or divine
Captured in silver salts

Your exit, exodus
Of years of love
To the diaspora
That made my shortcomings
You in lopsided armour and intimates
It hurts to see beauty reject you

And when you discover
There are no muscles in the hand
And no pauses in the pulse
And the 23rd Psalm
Rings more true than more false

In that moment
Tears can water flowers
In this hothouse of ours
And the motion of our hands
Are fueled by the muscles of our hearts

And then maybe you'll wear
That armour again
And I can straighten it
When I get back home again

Oh...my...

This is so expressive, so beautiful...so painful. You brought a vision to my mind of your love, so desperate for you to return, so loving and hating and needing and not knowing what or why or how...or when.

Truly lovely...you brought tears to my eyes.

 

[sophieloves]

of all the poets here, i'm most drawn to your writings.... there's something about them that's a lot deeper than most, touching places i could never dream of touching because i don't have the experience or knowledge or skills. even when i don't understand everything about a write, it still pleases my head with images and sounds, impressions... your writing bears reading over and over, to get the fullest meaning from each line. these lines below make a deep deep impression - a stunning image, imo:

And in the dusk that dimmed the room
You looked bronze with age
Brows shadowing sockets where eyes smoldered

If you were a photograph
The onlooker would wonder
Whether it was desperation or divine
Captured in silver salts

 

[CicatrixESP]

Thanks Honey--you seem to understand what was being conveyed in that poem, and I guess that means I did somewhat ok with it..although I hope it really didn't make you misty eyed...I don't want to sadden anyone. There is hope in it still (I hope). Thanks for the wonderful compliment

That's an incredible compliment Sophie, though I don't consider myself a poet. Just writing words to capture images I guess. In a way, they're my photographs. But thank you so very much

 

[CicatrixESP]

Things to do When Listening to Maria Callas

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