oh how i wish to be
one of those poets, i declare,
the light of their fireplace
scatters warmth
even to where i stand
between tousled grass and geraniums,
my grubby face and fingers
pressed to the outside layer of glass.
this side of the windows
the world is dark as ice
and just as upside down;
clusters of constellations
puncture
the backs of my legs
but it’s the heavy-perfumed heat
inside
that gives orbit
to seasons of time,
colour to oxygen.
turning aside
dew seeps through my toes
and stars let themselves die
like the falling of petals
after spring
there are no hollows in the ground
and no where left to bury them
so i deftly fold each star
into patterns of paper lanterns
but cannot find any tears
amongst the wilted crumples.
they are left littering the lawn
like crumbs of confetti
from an after-party two
tuesdays ago.
i cannot cry tonight;
i breathe goodbye
and become
milkweed
in midnight wind.
Author notes
Life is exactly the same, only completely different. A bit of a ramble. First two lines say it all, really.
Is it tears or tears? You decide.
In a list
A contest entry
- One by Nam.
425 points, ended October 6, 2007, 16 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Dead Stars by Virgoan.
500 points, ended October 12, 2007, 13 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
critique welcome, needed, appreciated etc
Comments
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Another stunning write ... you deliver some great lines here and I thoroughly enjoyed reading this. Congratulations on securing the bronze shiny ... very well deserved.
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Wow! This is amazing. I like the imagery and the strong verses you have provided.
Well done fellow poet.
Thanks for sharing and best of luck.
VIRGOAN
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This seems to evoke a lot of visuals, and metaphors, and perhaps even both entwined. Yet, as you state: the first two lines says it all but it differs from the rest of the piece from the fact that it's not like the rest of the piece, in any way really.
It starts literal, and then begins to entwine into a dreamscape, visuals of a reality that one wishes that existed but, in the end, doesn't.
I really do not know if that's good or bad in relation to this piece because I felt the visual encompassed more of the piece than the literal, and I felt when reading that perhaps they should have been bouncing off each other. Perhaps that's personal preference, I do not know.
Good piece that you have written here.
-
"turning aside
dew seeps through my toes
and stars let themselves die
like the falling of petals
after spring"
w o w
this whole piece is flawless. I won't even wish you best of luck in the contest, because you won't need it. wonderful amazing incredible. all of that stuff. you rock, really.
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