you might have been a baby
some fat sweet pear
all giggles and juice
did your momma cry
garbled as a shewolf
tilted against october’s moon
when you returned to
the muffin man?
or you could’ve been daddy’s boy
tall as a king with six wives
hair wavy as grain
and gold as the sky
did you die
before she had the chance
to kiss you somewhere
besides your mouth?
but there are hints
from the chiseling
that you were a good man
moss marks your dark bed
like children paint
just another saint
who said: now i lay me down to sleep
without meaning to
because morning held milk
money in the bank
and a son taller than a king
that needed you more than
a prayer
i know worms hold picnics
inside your thighs
and flies have fucked your flesh
you are as gray as a soldier
restless
though poppies grow in flander’s fields
yet
i believe
you did not come here to lie
in fishbone silence
but to observe
if the world still sits on a daffodil
plucked by a worn hand
his tread slow as stones
as he walks towards a woman
lining every corner he has ever known
&
i know
beneath this simple spot
you still dream
of how he forgave her for aging
and she forgave that he noticed
Author notes
I sometimes believe being dead just means more time for personal reflection. And what is more important than reflecting about whom and how you loved?
It's crazy, but call me a romantic. Heh.
A contest entry
- The Invitations Keep Coming... by Dalaney.
1600 points, ended September 13, 2008, 4 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 20 of 20
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sigh. you are seriously my favourite writer on ap. get your sorry arse back on here; i miss you & your brilliance!
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Amen!!!
congrats!!! -
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A very powerful piece. Stunning!
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yet
i believe
you did not come here to lie
in fishbone silence
but to observe
if the world still sits on a daffodil
plucked by a worn hand
his tread slow as stones
as he walks towards a woman
lining every corner he has ever known
this part is seriously the most amazing thing, oh and there are only two food references in here. i am somewhat proud and somewhat disappointed because i haven't eaten lunch today and was looking for ideas
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Pure poetry. You don't strut dearest Poetess you walk the walk with your own style and talk the talk that deserves to be heard. You show us The Word. Spellbinding, powerful and absolutely f**king fantastic!
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youre one of the great. amen to that ho yeah fuck yeah
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i lubs you...
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fucking stunning
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"yet
i believe
you did not come here to lie
in fishbone silence
but to observe
if the world still sits on a daffodil
plucked by a worn hand"
I love this
I love the ending..
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Okies...Now that I have actually had a chance to read this a second time, it is just vocal and talented poetry. I thought the ending was a tad awkward, in terms of how I read it...But I loved that second stanza so much and thought the "shy" and "die" rhyme added the sound of screeching violins in the background. I noticed that you are fond of food imagery in your poetry...And I think that is cool how you sometimes use metaphors as a way of dealing with fruit and other such items. "without meaning to" - I would scratch the "to", but that's just me.
This is sweeping stuff and as usual,
so fucking raw and honest.
; -
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awesome, just like usual. ^.^ Favie part:
did you die
before she had the chance
to kiss you somewhere
besides your mouth?
Seriously amazing. I heart it.
Sli -
Only you could make this subject sound almost spiritual and surreal.I believe we get a second chance to edit things here lol I hope I am not wrong
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"You might have been a baby
some fat sweet pear
all giggles and juice..."
What a charming introduction to such a grim subject!
The dichotomy of life, love and all the whillpools they stir up are striking in your poem, Madam!
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...there are no words. kind of reminds me of edward vi, probably cos of your awesome references.
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i know worms hold picnics
inside your thighs
and flies have fucked your flesh
beautiful
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i really love the point you made in your authors notes and it really gave me good insight to this poem.
i cant even think of critiqueing this and im really stuck on words and what to say, and i dont think i've read a bad poem from you ever, although i do admit some i dont comment on just because im totally reeling from all your images and i dont know what to say. im sorry
but thank you for sharing your wonderful talent
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wonderful!
m
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oh my... this, just a powerful piece. You've basically left me at a loss for words. This is why you are a favorite of mine.
What a life to reflect on you've created.... love this.
-joan.
.
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