Twisted mulga trees stunted
from surviving the dry years.
Forsaken heart misshapen
by the endless longing.
So many years staring out of
a hundred different windows.
Too late now to hold my hand
when all is silent and quiet
save for the last few rattles
of my dry crumbling heart.
Author notes
Prompts: Lonely Window by Chris Conrad 2003
"The hand held between lonely"
A contest entry
- Between by Pamela A Lamppa.
1750 points, ended October 28, 2008, 23 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 31 of 31
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Lovely beautiful the words flow...
'save for the last few rattles
of my dry crumbling heart.'
How true to life; as it slowly withers and dies away in love and life.
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hope you dont mind me adding you but georgie recommended you and said you are a great person and loves your poetry. a very good poem. very well versed and i understand it in a way that only another aussie could. what part of australia are you from?
shane -
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Hi Shane. I'm up in North Queensland.
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well done
Flows well. Good imagery. A sad ending though.
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Superb
Makes me want to pray for rain.
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Oh man! that's a good poem. I love the images, very concrete and well put. Great ending too.
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wonderful ending lines, refrained through the mind,
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I love this poem. The imagery is beautiful. However, I feel that "heart" in the third line isn't quite the right word to use there, especially since you use it in the last line as well.
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There is a helpless hopelessness in this piece that conveys the image of the lonely window in a unique and stark manner.
I learned about mulga trees today.
Thank you for that and now I know how critical a dry spell can be - too late for crumbling earth and crumbling hearts...
Thank you for a splendid entry to my contest. Best of luck in the judging. ~Pamela
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ahh too late now ...
sound so hopeless and sad,
end with dry heart...
well expressed
success in your contest
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very nice
Hello there i really enjoyed your poem very well written
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I loved the tree part and how it could so simply relate to the misshapen heart. Very well written.
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wow, so sad
this is a great poem. My favourite stanzas r these:
Too late now to hold my hand
when all is silent and quiet
save for the last few rattles
of my dry crumbling heart.
brilliant emotonal write.
x -
So sad and full of regret......
The makings of a great poem! This one's truly terrific.
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Views seem to switch back and forth here
between inner and outer neglect...
And this perspective is heightened by
" a hundred different windows" as
each would see things, feel a different way.
Wonderful to have this emotion conveyed
through strong imagery and word placement.
Blue
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Phenomn!!!!!!!!!! This is simply masterful. As always, you dear sir, inspire me!!!!!
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This is great. The simple language and style really allows the reader to concentrate on the meaning. Thanks for sharing.
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As always you write beautifully...
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oh this is raw. such emotion - pain. i love the metaphor of the mulga tree (had to look it up), but my favorite part is: "Forsaken heart misshapen
by the endless longing." palpable feeling. i love this. - NANGALEEMA
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Taut and concise, this poem tells the entire message with a good metaphor and just a few of the right words. Kudos!
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EXCELLENT
Dearest John,
your usage of the trees was pure artistry, such a melancholy piece of poetry that it made me ache, for everyone and every living thing needs adequate nourishment and nurturing, the yearning with looking for so long through windows never opened was powerfully effective, no window dressing here my friend, forgive my rambling, ten lines of high impact poetry. Kudos.
Love and Light
Yvie...
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Awesome!!!
Again, your metaphoric meteor arises and takes flight! Great work, good luck in the contest!! Peace, Cyn
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sad and beautiful...I've never seen a mulga tree, but from your imagery, it sounds quite majestic. This is lovely poetry
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Yes, the mulga, misshapen by years of less than adequate nourishment,is a great metaphor for the heart here.
I would leave off the period at the end of the second to last stanza, and the capital letter on 'save' so that the poem flows down to the end.
It made me hear the clatter of mulga in a dry wind, and it felt desolate and alone.
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I had to google 'Mulga' trees as they don't grow in my neck of the woods. Did you know it is derived from an aboriginal word for shields? Great poem, succinct, yet speaks multitudes.
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Good use of the old tree as metaphor for the aching heart here... you made me see this one through your "window". Lovely poetry.
~ Nicolette
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John
Had to look it up. Botany people said it was "drought tolerant". Guess it depends on the degree of drought.
But many plants demonstrate intermittent watering during growth. And keep that rattling to yourself, this is a "quiet zone!"LOL
Nicely put, and best of luck!
John
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I just looked up the title...I love it..
& I love this poem...
wonderful imagery...esp. the twisted mulga trees...
very sad, though=(*hug*
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Love your word choice. You have a gift that you can say so much in so few words! Sad but beautiful, my best to you in the contest
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Could a well of tears in this dry forsaken and lonely place plump a misshapen heart?
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Twisted, stunted, dry...
Oh, how you have captured
a sad "misshapen."
Again, you excell, wordmaster.
Aesthete
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