Fall
In a park
A playground
The wind recalls laughter
Then, icy water rings my throat
Cold wind clinks the chains of the swings
That linked me, in theory
To safety
Instantly
The trees
Are so bare
The limbs are too bare
They feel too much air
Sure, all you can see
But, no one
Is there
To see
Just me
I remember
Washing the rust off
And, cooling the burn
From my hands
In a fountain
That never stopped churning
Clear water
That never stopped running
Now, foggy
And, frozen
And, groggy grey morning hung over
The dawn
I woke
With dry blood in my palm
Cold wind turns to steam
I'm dry, shivering leaves
And, I'm swung like a child
Then, flung to the reeds
I want to drift faster
Like Fall
To be knocked unconscious
Or, land on my haunches
And, run
Or hunker
And, hide my wild
Looks from the sun
I want the air plucked from my breast
To run my fingers through the grass
Then, grasping, to tear out the roots
The dark clumps of soil
And, gasping, on boots
The dirt
Still wet
In my palms
Rare palms
I washed
In a fountain that runs
Though, no one is there
A fountain that cools
But, replenishes
Nothing
I still feel the blood
It's running
And, stumbling
Away
From the Fall
A contest entry
- Open Wounds by Eugene Cash Hensley.
700 points, ended November 26, 2007, 19 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Things we lost in the fire... by Jai Guru Deva.
500 points, ended January 26, 2008, 85 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
-
Very detailed and beautiful. Good job and good luck.
-
I'm lost in the Bermuda Triangle with this one. Help me understand, I think maybe, loss of God, loss of childhood, but then the title throws me off. I love the images here, some childhood memories I had forgotten.
-
-
You were on the right track. It's about the loss of innocence, but moreso, it's about a betrayal that pulled away that veil of naivete. The Human Racist is meant to describe someone who is now wary of the entire human race without discrimination. I hope that helped! (I love the images too, thank you. This playground was a huge part of my childhood, and oddly enough, my adulthood. So this poem means alot to me.)
-
-
This is really quite the amazing poem with remarkably raw and real imagery, yet at the same time like a cloudy dreamscape of memory in the playground between innocence and experience. Your staccato cadences are striking, and your vocabulary choice and placement make for a very evocative and thought-provoking piece that is quite stirring indeed. Best of luck in the contest with this superb poem.
David Michaels
-
Im blown away.
This is the epitome of a raw memory. Its so atmospheric and the feeling is real.
"
Cold wind clinks the chains of the swings
That linked me, in theory
To safety"
This was my favorite part. You used imagery so well in this. For such a picky reader such as myself, this was so relieving to read. You are an amazing writer and I'm off to look at your other works.
This was amazing. Best of luck in the contest.
-
-
Wow, thank you so much for the incredibly thoughtful comment...
-
I forgot it was an anonymous contest, but I am looking foward to reading more once the contest is over.
-
Adding your comment:
1 - 7 of 7
