The
Body
the
body the keeper of all that we know thoughts
memories words
stacked in little boxes scratched on stones
hardened
by fire envelopes tied with blue ribbons
your
name is there feelings flow through veins injuries weep
bleeding
onto the pavement a dusty chamber blue
the
heart beats a search is made a vessel waiting
October
31, 2015
__________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________
Missing You
house of
glass wrinkled withered
transparent contents exposed secrets revealed
the sun
shining the sound of a gong shadows dappled
wounds
salted calmness in minutes after jar falls from the shelf
rice scatters across
the floor plums spinning into corners the hours that follow
difficult
all is quiet the
waiting begins words muttered
November 1, 2015
12 comments:
You have expressed the feeling of 'missing' so very well...it's all of those little details that add up to a good poem!
Our body does indeed tell our story..like a patch work...when we feel vulnerable our bodies can feel like an open raw jar for all the world to see xo (or not - which hurts the most maybe?)
This is the one weekend when that sense of loss, the loneliness is felt he most. That sound of the gong is almost like a call... bringing you back to the living side of the veil.
the ending hangs my mind in the air,
very sharp sentences.
I felt the strong pull of 'missing' here...the grief in their being gone that travels so deep inside.
very heartfelt..
"Injuries weep...the search made....a waiting vessel"......wonderfully apt description of our bodies as keepers of memory. In the second poem the phrases "transparent contents revealed....secrets exposed" seem significant to the jar dropping, the rice scattering.....
your name is there
feelings flow through veins
injuries weep
bleeding onto the pavement
Such strong & emotive write.
Beautifully executed
The poem "missing" is so intense that it gave me gooseflesh. The pangs of missing are so well described. Loved both the poems.
"Words muttered' even though they are not there and you feel incomplete. I know that feeling well.
Your words evoke images of getting bad medical news, of struggling with brokenness and death - strong images of pain and managing anyway.
This is a very interesting way to write a poem. I may attempt something like this some time. I could read it in different ways and get similar but different stories from each read through. Very interesting.
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