Are you the carrier of the disease
marching past the frieze
carrying your white chalk
hoping it will not rain for days & days?
I fetch Ophelia’s rags
from the shore
to clothe her naked form,
pale blue
she who brought such warmth
has left an absent cold
that seeps within the bones.
the heavens leak
I play the hangman’s card,
the three of staves
in the distance
the snake of lights waver
as if distance would snuff them out.
I play easily
dealing the cards face down
knowing they would shout
in the tall green grass
next to the pool
where the waters gather.
Author notes
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It's quite intersting I'd say. It of course reminds me of tarot cards, and how I want a dragon deck but no, no one will buy me any. So, I was right, a lot of people think the same thing about them. I learned many card games when I was bored online or something, also trying to beat my sisters score. It does get me thinking again, about logical and the illogical thinking, and death and life, and magic and mythology. I have a lot to go over...
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ps there is more I needed to say! very good walk through living and dying!!!!!!!!!!! Many of us dislike to write about this subject but it is reality and in your last line you seem to be expressing life after death with this
" I play easily
dealing the cards face down
knowing they would shout
in the tall green grass
next to the pool
where the waters gather".I'm not sure if I got the true meaning from your work as you wanted, but one write can bring different meanings to different readers..... Death is a difficult subject to write about or it is for me, but you did a fantastic job of it and not making it sound so morbid!!!! Great work!!!!!!
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A madonnaro walks by with only white in his bag; pale remembrance, and then moves on. The beauty of such tributes are their ephemeral quality – like life they are not indelible – the rain of time will wash it away.
Ophelia’s vital doppelganger provoked her brother Claudio, the pale Hamlet, to ruminate on the chill:
Ay, but to die, and go we know not where;
To lie in cold obstruction and to rot;
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice;
To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
The pendent world; or to be worse than worst
Of those that lawless and incertain thought
Imagine howling: 'tis too horrible!
The weariest and most loathed worldly life
That age, ache, penury and imprisonment
Can lay on nature is a paradise
To what we fear of death.
In a spell of unemployment I worked in carnivals telling fortunes with Tarot cards. They are a pack of poems – the symbols core to the human and divine experience. You tossed a couple of sage ones here.
You shepherd us to the still waters of the last stanza – where there is uneasy rest in the tall grass.
Lots of claps.
Peace.
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i become an expert in solitair on rainy days
though you painted it much more romantic,poetic, and patient
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I am not at all good at cards ...
and does not know Tarot or astrology ... but: I do know symbols ... and the relief of meaning in this poem, the sadness and the need to rectify some wrongs, the determination to be healer, of the self and others, to move in timelessness and to become the life-force for the unfortunate ...
Mourning has its own silent brilliance. Dew the elixer of innocence and a new morning, in Eternity's timeless mythology.
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I'm not so good at commenting on the good ones. Sometimes it is too much like work and I'd rather just let the words bump into me from a few different angles until I know them.
This poem is nudgine me quite a bit and I, like the chilly nurse, will need more time.
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this is pretty good. you did good writing it. keep up your good work! and good luck in this awesome contest!
Crimson -
I loved this. Your poetry is always a little abstract, full of fascinating word and word play, and so damn fascinating. This was a wonderful piece. Good luck in the contest!!!
Write on!
~*~SP~*~
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Pretty title, her flesh melted and resolved itself in the dew dew dew dew, Hamlet be chuffed probably, he liked to predict stuff, he was wrong about frailty's name, very wrong. This is good, seems very touchy touchy tactile, the liquidiness and the leakiness. I hate it when people direct or play her too puppety, it's unfair, nobody with her Daddy would be much different, he tries to make her one of the mousetraps and she ends up being the mouse. Poor girl, what a annoying family, I'd of gone mad way before her if Laertes was my brother. I just hate people projecting her as a silly little girl. Good poem. Good how it's about games. All foreboding, the water getting higher and higher.
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we've had so much rain here of late, we've all gotten rust this summer and not a drop of sunburn anywhere.. nor a a drop of dew in the early morning either.....
how many heaven's do we have... should it be heavens or heaven's?? I dunno... i'm not the punkyshewshans poleeece.... it confuddles me........
can this tip the balance, her warmth ? the love ... the mirrors.... the rain... and the tarot cards lean into the future..
I don't get this all yet... and will probably come back a few times to let it soak into my bones..
but I like the mystery and old feel to it
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Great poem you have here. I really found it interesting. Good luck in the contest I hope you win a trophy. Keep up the good work.
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interesting piece, beautiful
keep writing
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WELL.............................
I find the piece chalk full of too die for vocabulary and imagery. Kind of hard for me to understand though, but it's beautiful anyway! sweet
POETDONTKNOWIT -
Very interesting piece. Thanks for the read.
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Nice work here
I liked the last stanza best
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thank you so much for entering my contest.
Love, Lane
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Excellent.
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