they are my trembling sky-drum.
They play at their good weather
by draping blue tablecloths over the dinner table--
but I see them kick
the hot coals of the earth
at each other's bare legs
when they eat.
A wind in itself has never been carried.
A mountain never grows.
Thunder knows no patience.
They all gather like in a
glaring white waiting room,
hoping for the next tic
and the first blow
to fall.
And me?
I am the mouse below,
the creature who cringes at every buffet,
every crackle of the fire,
but blows on embers anyway
as he sings.
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5 comments:
I'm not too sure about this one. I really really like the image in the first stanza though... that was very clever, the family kicking hot coals at each other under the table. It's so true.
Feels like a The Beatles song could have come from this.
Strange imagery, but still relatable.
Hmm. I agree with you, Charles. The last few seem disjointed.
TO THE EDITING ROOM!
I agree with Mike, I definitely felt the whole song lyrics vibe, I was half expecting a repetition of a stanze at some point.
The only thing I'd point out is for some reason it seems to be just the start of something. Like a murder mystery. It feels as though it's setting the scene for the actual story.
I love the first line. The poem did seem a bit disjointed, but I thought because it was consistently strange in its imagery that it worked and created a nice tension. The last two stanzas were really bizarre and...interesting. Intriguingly so. I found myself just rereading them and trying to understand for a couple of minutes (in a good way). It sounds somewhat pretentious to say but it was thought provoking! :P
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