Thursday, April 18, 2013

Becoming



Pauses of pulse, at the edge of eternity,
as the fall begins it starts up again
insistent and onward.
The face of death shimmmers
in mirage, only to vanish
with each breath and surge-
each pulse is wealth.

Now only thoughts are visible,
filled with air and echos-
hollow tones and holes.

Death dances like
the edge of firelight
flickering warm, inviting-
gathering fear like harvest
soul seeding with belonging
as all are joined in endings.

But with pockets turned out
at the river,
all is poor in death.


Reworked and RePosted for Dverse Poets Pub

We are writing about catastrophe, whether public or personal.
And in the face of recent catastrophes people are speechless, in shock and amazed at how violent and unstable is this world we live in. The candy coated world is revealed for what it really is...

The great question is asked, "But how can you write POETRY about catastrophe?"
Poetry is a form of expression. It is voice of the soul. The best work is the raw work of raw emotions. Now, strip away all the media hype and what you have been told to think, and write something down that you feel strongly about. Then you have something, something that is yours only. It belongs to you, that voice. Listen to it sometimes...Let it speak.

7 comments:

kkkkaty said...

i wish i could write like this.."with pockets turned out at the river" sweet

kkkkaty said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
rowantaw.com said...

I found the effect of the pulse at the beginning made for an intense read throughout.

Claudia said...

But with pockets turned out
at the river,
all is poor in death....this sums it up perfectly

aka_andrea said...

adding this to my list of lines I wish I'd written,

'Now only thoughts are visible,
filled with air and echos-
hollow tones and holes.'

Anna Graham said...

This is beautifully realized and full of insight. Thank you for joining us.

Nico said...

I've missed a lot of blog reading time the last few weeks; but I'm glad you stopped by and left a comment at my place, prompting me to visit over here. Very well done, I especially like the sound of "Death dances like
the edge of firelight
flickering warm." Nice!