Monday, January 4, 2010

Walls of Uncertainty

Eyes open to blaring beep of the alarm
And emptiness of the right side of the bed
Her impressions have risen
Over the months of her being gone
As if no one ever laid there before
I just want the warm feeling of love
To hold and to handle
I want the ringing of your voice in my ear
Conversations running deep into the night
And continue until the rise of the sun
Her smiles pictured in my head
Gleaming throughout the day

I feel lost without her precious smirk
Her blue sky eyes peering at me
Her zest for life
Yet the devils liquid ensnares her
She dances into the night
Living the life she feels she deserves

I lost the flower
She has my emotions
My blood boiling with passion
He has my heart
Cupped in His hand
Ready to be molded
And driven to His will

Once I let my emotions fall
I will be released of the pain
And free to hold on to Him

How do I let the flower fall from my hand
And learn to find another
I smell the essence of a rose
But do not know if I can handle the flavor
Of the scent in my veins

The scent bubbles my thirst
Drives my passion
I am not ready to harness any new flower
I will become a beast of lust
Rather than a gentle man of righteousness

1 comment:

  1. I love the opening – it is eerie and tremendously sad – I love the way you wrote that the woman’s impression in the bed sheets is fading over time. This poem seems to send a message about division: a division in time (past/present), a division between lovers, and a division between the speaker and God. The first two are much stronger forces in this poem than the latter. I asked the question “what does God have to do with this?” when I arrived at the first mention of Him. I like the way you tied a mention of God to the last line of the poem – but I want to understand the motive… how is the motive to be a gentle man of righteousness born out of the fading lover?

    Another interesting trend in this poem is your focus on the senses and the way you pair them. The eyes opening to the sound of the alarm, the scent of the flower that flavors your veins… I would say that this works, except it seems a bit playful – which does not match what I think is the intended tone for this poem. I like the combination of the rose and the veins in your fifth stanza – but I want to see blood… can you imagine thorns and veins – that is a much more painful pairing (OUCH). This is a painful poem and as much as this sounds masochistic, I want to feel and see that pain. I do not want to be told “about” it (well, I do, but not directly. Make me work a little more…).

    There is another interesting pairing: harnessing a flower and becoming a beast. It seems the harness belongs on the beast – not the flower. Moreover, it is very apparent to me that the flower is a strong symbol for you – but because it is so regularly used in love themes, and in your other poems, it loses strength in its image because it becomes cliché. Cast this flower in a different light (i.e. French poet Baudelaire’s Les Fleurs du Mal (Flowers of Evil). Instead of using the flower as a symbol in his poetry, he used it to categorize ALL of his poetry.) Pick a specific flower (the rose is also a cliché unfortunately – your work will be harder if you stick with the rose because you need to talk about it in a way that has not been talked about before – very difficult), describe its features, and maybe personify it… I hope you can see where I’m coming from in this comment.

    If I can make a very humble suggestion – write poems from your poems… I wonder how that would change them. Not that I am anyone to say that they should change – I’m suggesting it merely as an exercise for you to consider. I may end up looking at my poems in this way, also, to see what the poem might become. Underline your strong images and strike your commentary about them. See what you have afterward! =)

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