User Submitted Poetry
 Interested in feedback about a piece you've written? 

eMule -> The Poetry Archive -> Forums -> User Submitted Poetry


Goto Thread: PreviousNext
Goto: Forum ListMessage ListNew TopicSearchLog In
UNMARKED
Posted by: petersz (67.174.198.---)
Date: June 06, 2021 11:32AM

UNMARKED

Here as present as I can be I wait on the stillness of the city’s sound,
caution myself for having never listened before
At the portal of the day and watch for the remnants of what was to come.
And now, the beginning sounds of birds and water outside
The window

Disturb my ears and they mingle and speak to themselves.
“Amo”
I make out a word, the buildings
glisten revealing a warm grayness as I watch, yes, as my eyes wonder
among the figures and cars on the street. I am strangely moved and
I hear
The reserve in “Amo et avanti,’ and in “Return.”

I am beginning a new life and I can’t be with you anymore. I am
Leaving for San Francisco and I won’t be here anymore. I am
Breaking with the path, December 1965. But where did you go my Cliff-hanger?
You, stirred up, with the bristling thoughts I
recall, and I try to hear the purr of your anger. I cannot understand
the broken petals, the leaves on the table,
yet life is more than thunder. Those who drew you away did not
think
a plane ticket, now dust, slipped from a hand
Is mere paper for bright transfer and redundant promises.

Than the bright transfer and redundant promises I retain in
My diary.

Across the years in faded pages a voice breaking
identical with the wind outside my window, a reality come present again,
Like the internet crackling with news of the day,
there is the joyful itch of my hands, a shelter from the past,
and the itch of my ear for new sounds, love. My eyes ache
before the screen, itself a window for my room, What
Day,
Zealous and abrupt, sticks in my mind, like the morning call
on the telephone, not today, no adventure, that openness
to the local event, however drear and profane, here, where my children
visit, and where peace and paradise are not the same, as the wind and the window
dominate. “Go forward,” the poet said,

to what comes on its own,” the imprint of an aleatory pattern here
the mark for the boundary, no boundary, “amo et avanti, mes amis”
in the whisper
from the walls, from my mind, from tomorrow, like the birds
And the rain, where I am now, alone and not alone.

Oh, the stones not yet cut.
Your friend says, “Oh, the stones not yet cut.”

Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 06/25/2011 11:56PM by petersz.


Re: UNMARKED
Posted by: les712 (68.116.94.---)
Date: June 08, 2021 10:59AM

Is this a current reflection Pete, or one that has simmered on the back burner for a while?


Les


Re: UNMARKED
Posted by: petersz (67.174.198.---)
Date: June 09, 2021 03:17AM

Les,

This is a fiction I composed as a knock-off of a poem by Ed Dorn in an attempt to learn from his writing.

Peter


Re: UNMARKED
Posted by: frost42_24 (67.160.36.---)
Date: June 24, 2021 04:17PM

whatever it is....I liked it.


Re: UNMARKED
Posted by: petersz (67.174.198.---)
Date: June 25, 2021 12:57AM

Thanks, frosty




Sorry, only registered users may post in this forum.
This poetry forum at emule.com powered by Phorum.