I can remember
Elementary school
A rural town
Longing and angst
The aroma on the air
Of spring
Of summer and fall
And the restraint
The breaking
And choice:
Driven or led
And then later;
Down on the bottom
Where the big fish are
Snake-eyed and wanting
Little boy
Grown to a man
There is always plenty
Of cheese
In the mousetraps
And like once told
if there is really
A hell below us
Then in the end
We've all got to go
For if a soul
In truth,
The body does host
Then most must
Have a space for rent
I can remember
The city sleeping
Violently dreaming
At every corner
Learning the dance
Forgetting the steps
Before the flood,
In a bubble and fear -
Growing
Washed away and rudderless
And so
No more time to tarry
Tossing through the Thicket
Rounding off my experiences
Amongst and mingled
With the old dead
In our heads
The cemetery; graveyards
Ghostly
And colour
In our hour
Electric nothing
In-between awake and dreaming
Published by Walton S. Tissot
~ Walton S. Tissot is a pseudonym of William S. Tribell - *{PLEASE FEEL FREE: Anyone who enjoys the work, to Tweet, Dig, Blog, Tell a friend or anyway otherwise share and or promote it.}* - Born in America,... View profile
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28 Comments
Post a CommentWow you are very talented! I read your poem because I found you on Orchiolum's facebook! Very emotion and description,
Before the flood,
In a bubble and fear -
Growing
Washed away and rudderless
"if there really is a hell below us then in the end we've all got to go" Fantastic line, writing as a whole. Always a good experience well done.
Incredible!!!!
I enjoyed, and will again, the intentional positioning of your words...the scenes...and how I felt when I read them. Not many words penetrate the walls. Thank you.***************************.....................
Wrote on the in-between not long ago. Think poets may linger there more than most. Love the "space for rent" line. This is amazingly rich!
PV!!!
hmmm.
You always surprise us. Thank you.
Some strong imagery and language:
Where the big fish are
Snake-eyed and wanting
and
Learning the dance
Forgetting the steps
and I agree that phrases like rudderless and "the old dead" and also "space for rent" as soulless are effective.
I don't like the deliberate stilting of " If a soul...this body does host". Also the brief line breaks and lack of form or pattern in the stanzas (number of lines, etc) bug me.
I want to talk about chaos in the confines of visual order.
I've missed your writing... and I am not writing poetry lately. (Somebody slap me!)
Oooh! Shudder! Incredible poem!!!