wordless

i am a poet

without a poem
other people’s words stream through me
displacing mine
in the hollow that is being
no words reverberate
the way once they clamored to be heard
clambering over each other like puppies
to the top of the heap
and i long for them
i have a kneading need
for them to rise
keen above the keening
to burst through the cacophony
in my head
to be distilled into a  pin-drop symphony
long-sought
silence
15.8.12
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taking my leave…

i was doing some website maintenance on my very first website yesterday and i came across this poem written almost 10 years ago and strangely apt yet again.

FALL 

It’s beautiful here – 
cold, but clear, 
crisp, like the leaves floating, 
sun-browned, 
to the ground at this time of year. 
I watch their detached descent – 
such sensuous nonchalance. 

One day I shall learn 
to let go 
the way leaves fall – 
it’s autumn and I ought to, 
but for now 
I wear my coat against the cold 
(the woman in my mirror grows older) 
and I marvel at the leaves, 
how they manage to move on 
with such indifference, 
no smoldering passion 
or wasted grief. 

Unlike me, 
they’ve mastered the art of parting 
and when it’s time to go, 

they leave. 

i’m getting so bored with myself. i wish i could simply gallumph off into my future like a stampeding pachyderm instead of tiptoeing over egg-shell memories; it’s circus trained, tutu’ed counterpart, desperately, with inelegant grace trying to find balance on a life turned bucket-upside down… trying to let go of dreams i never even knew i had…

circus-elephant

though watching an episode i’d pvr’d of “tell me you love me” (the controversial HBO show about 3 very dysfunctional couples with intimacy issues), was a great reminder of how everything had gone so terribly awry in the end. the show is so realistic, it left me with quite a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

last night while incoming email and phone messages kept me awake with words roiling round my brain,  i came up with this.

 

ode – dec 02.08

i’m done with odes,
these endless odes to what bode not well.
i emote and emote
and almost by rote
words  croak from my throat like
grim frogs
destined never to be prince.
all simply so much bull.
i make myself wince.
and so I’m done with odes.
at least until the next cacophony
i have, it seems, no choice,
aloud, but to unload,
i’m done with odes.

 

famous last words, i know….