between inhale and exhale;
a moment worth mentioning,
full of fatal flaws that flail reason to breathe
oh, deep, dark purple need to move,
to attempt to make different,
to sink or suck
pulse beats stronger, heart beats longer
in this liquid lingering on a minute sorrow
that even breath cannot make sense of
In a list
A contest entry
- inside the sounds inside by Nicolette.
5000 points, ended May 31, 29 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 12 of 12
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I am drawn into domestic violence in this.... that is just me and where i went based on seeing so many women with that deep dark purple need to move....
this was beautifully haunting and whether or not it was intended for me to go where i went- its where i went and it was very deserving of a trophy! thank you for your lovely thoughts on my poem.
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Congratulations Carol! This was more than deserving.
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Thank you, Rowan.
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"oh, deep, dark purple need to move" - that line...and the last stanza made this poem for me, Carol. How well you express the heart and soul's cries here and how poignantly you press it here against this page. Wonderful, meaningful poetry.
~ Nicolette
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Happens I remember and perhaps that is that part of soul where I go to write such.
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That deep, dark purple can immobilize us into silence, it seems. Still, the quiet brings a sense of knowing that cannot be denied or ignored. Its reverberations linger in our blood, calling us beyond the grasp of sorrow. Brilliant & beautiful you are, my Sister. Good luck in Nic's contest, Sweetie.
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There has never been a silence in those of us who coudl scream poetry, no?
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Quicksand, m'lady. Quicksand. Worse than gravity, this kind of tears never make it to the lash, but sit between the sting and the heart....
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Once we figure out how to say it appropriately... how to write it without sickening..how to express it... then, then, we begin loosening ourselves from that quicksand and crawl, like monkey's out of that mire.
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Sometimes, Carol, the bruising is too much. The only way out is toward the light and sometimes it seems to be the dream when we are looking down. I had a bad sleeping dream last night and in the dream I couldn't even scream to waken. I don't usually dream graphic ugliness, but this one was...and angry, I wanted freedom to breathe, with a desire for living meadows and music, cool water, and uncontaminated sky to move through me.... in a word, the expanding beauty of love.
I am curious about the picture of you standing among the flowers. What is the commemoration?
I only wish light and love for you ,too, in all it's myriad forms.
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Wow
you sure have captured imagery to its smallest unique core. Its a sit up straight and think poem this! Blessings. Frans
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ty, frans...it does draw from a dark core...but I wanted it to draw in a beautiful way!
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