Pen pressed to mouth with absolute intensity
you listen,
but there is nothing left.
My words
are
as empty
as the bare wastes of
concrete
our feet leave behind.
My friend, I cannot take us
so high
as to remove us from our folly.
I cannot even
pretend
to listen to the silence
your pursed lips create.
Whole deserts of meaning
bloom
and die,
as you describe the limits of my hubris
with rounded eyes.
So I need to know,
can the past be rewritten
with the dust
of broken, rotting bones
in the bleaching sun?
And will you, my student, forgive these truths?
or will we freeze forever
in this rarefied atmosphere,
waiting for this moment
to concrete.
A.J. Ponder
No - not a beach poem (sorry Helen) that particular poem seems to have a problem within the confines of words. I think maybe it is two poems and they need surgical separation.
That will be fun when I have a moment but today as a busy day so I'd better crack to it. I'm so very behind - but I'll be doing my best to visit everyone at the Tuesday poem hub tonight. Cheers everyone, have a great week
A.J. Ponder
A.J. Ponder's work is available through Rona Gallery, Amazon, and good Wellington bookstores
I like the tone of this poem a lot, Alicia - especially this stanza:
ReplyDeleteWhole deserts of meaning
bloom
and die,
as you describe the limits of my hubris
with rounded eyes.
It's got a dramatic quality that really appeals to me.
Thanks Tim, dramatic - yes - I like that :) Protest poetry should be dramatic shouldn't it?
ReplyDelete