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  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    For one more reason I will sing to you,
    Confess my sins, my sorrows cause I´m sad,
    Waiting calmly in this state,
    Rolling on and on the ideas in my head
    In slow motion, cautiously, not to overlook one bit.
    Constantly superimposing words you said,
    When we drove along the waterside
    And laughed, I noticed something else was there to share;
    But it was concealed as you wouldn´t want to make mistake.
    I shall so faithfully believe,
    That this cohesion for all times should last, so fast
    You have changed the tone of utterance…
    I don´t want to die in silence.
    I´ve shared everything I have
    Now everybody knows what I was and what I am,
    But I doubt they are my fans.
    I will still write,
    Give more and more until I´m out
    Of every slice of my heart;
    And you will hold the knife,
    Looking at me bending forward, pleading for forgiveness
    Being the other part…
    Of what?
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    I didn´t ask for you to hold my hand,
    I didn´t look for drug to quench the sore,
    In hoping we could find the common pace of walk,
    You counting my steps and I count yours,
    My words expressed too much than actually allowed.
    It´s true,
    The starting moment was not the best of all,
    But why condemn the first line of a verse
    If days to come can promise so much more…
    I will learn and I will go -
    didn´t I say so?
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    Another one has gone
    Away from me like I was the worst disease;
    I´m resting in the corner of a back yard
    Making shapes of clouds up in the sky,
    Hmmmm….this one is pretty hard.
    What if I fly up there and push the other one aside
    Cause it´s body isn´t quite alike,
    It´s unusual and different, not my design;
    But hey! Wouldn´t nature be pissed off
    If I just told the guy to take time off?
    It´s not his defect that makes this picture so imperfect,
    It´s just my mind…
    I should rather try to find a perfect space among the guys
    Make his shape step out and shine.
    I haven´t noticed it before,
    But his white - so innocent so poor,
    I admit - I was too cold.
    He must have been around the world,
    Seen so much, sensed the touch
    Of time and space and every face,
    I should have known.
    Why am I here, still alone?
    Another one has gone
    Away from me like I was the worst disease…
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    if I had lived in the early modern period then I´d be the author of the following stanza :)

    Call us what you will, we are made such by love;
    call her one, me other fly,
    we are tapers too, and at our own cost die,
    and we in us find the Eagle and the Dove.
    The Phoenix riddle, hath more witt
    by us; we two being one, are it.
    So to one neutral thing both sexes fit,
    we die and rise the same, and prove
    mysterious by this love.
    (Donne)
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • Lucky Lucy
    Lucky Lucy Posts: 12
    i am not worthy if this thread,
    i do not print words
    that sing to words,
    i write figures on figures,
    minding sums instead,
    my thoughts are wasted,
    spent on 50 notes
    of no real value,
    id rather lose a mind to writers,
    poets winding words on reels,
    sailing my consciousness,
    to the otherside of dreams.

    thankyou for your inspirations exhale and finsbury, i get tingles from the beauty of your writing. ive been lost among this thread for hours now, reading and re-reading. (i was particularly amused by the literary debate in the middle!)

    lol lucy
    ...lose your mind,
    and then you'll find,
    the dreams you lost....
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    I must stop gatecrashing peoples' threads.

    :D
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    Originally posted by exhale
    There is no need for you to apologize,
    I shall rather consider myself privileged as your ´distant´ protégée.

    ...I once wrote.

    this is not MY thread. I´m posting my poems for people to read and relate, otherwise I´d just keep them for myself.
    it´s great if people response to my words; good, bad - doesn´t matter but it´s always a sign that you´ve noticed... something.

    thank you LL for your contribution, you´re always welcome.

    the sun is shining again for me on this cloudy day :):):)
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    While balancing my coffee through the crowds,
    Trying, in the faces, similarities to find,
    Hitting shoulders, repeating: my apologies´,
    I feel Venus cursing people just for fun again.
    “For a woman to make love is ill”
    Musella cried so desperate in want for him,
    In this different world of ours that is still
    An emblem of a confused woman´s mind
    Cause most of them could Lissius be named,
    Racists, sexists, homophobic and too proud.
    It doesn´t happen every day
    That people would admit their simple way;
    He found the courage in his words
    To put down the true facts about his girl:
    Compared her eyes to nothing like the sun,
    Looked for red in her cheeks but the colour´s gone,
    Her smile, her breath couldn´t change the image,
    So incomplete, so normal is her posture.
    I´m sure it´s possible to find oneself in his lines,
    In the survey of his maiden´s sight
    But could you summarize your love in a brief, short verse,
    Confess your soul with nothing more but a couplet?
    It is fascinating – he still knows
    That prejudice would always take main roles
    That every one of us would always be compared
    To diamonds, pearls and golden coins;
    And we do the same…
    I believe the author would prefer
    To publish happy ending of the play,
    If only she would be allowed to say:
    Hey, I love YOU, I love you not!
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    I like the symbolic synchronicity in this, the metropolitan consciousness's mixture of the classical, the early modern and the modernist/postmodernist. You know, I feel you should continue exploring this fusion of elements like this in further poems. Perhaps such similar work might even be further enriched by specific reference to a particular European city such as London, Paris, Berlin or Rome! I often like to see poems that allude to geographical as well as psychological and intellectual/emotional settings. They don't have to be 'realist'; they can be as abstract as you like!

    Thanks for this. I enjoyed it and caught the references! They were nicely worked into the text.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    thank you for noticing the point

    there´s actually little difference in the periods of time,
    just another disguise ...
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    hey!

    can you hear it?
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    … window cleaner early in the morning,
    … clank of milk bottles at the door
    … restless sea stroking blue stones at the coast of Aldeburgh
    … melody of silence in the green fields near Rickinghall
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    Originally posted by exhale
    … window cleaner early in the morning,
    … clank of milk bottles at the door
    … restless sea stroking blue stones at the coast of Aldeburgh
    … melody of silence in the green fields near Rickinghall

    Lovely stuff, exhale. :)
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    *sigh* :(
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    You miss the UK. I understand.
  • dyaogirl
    dyaogirl Posts: 138
    Originally posted by exhale
    … window cleaner early in the morning,
    … clank of milk bottles at the door
    … restless sea stroking blue stones at the coast of Aldeburgh
    … melody of silence in the green fields near Rickinghall

    Oh! exhale lovely! I can hear the melody of silence. :)
    '..... Ah! A perfect illustration of the poststructuralist paradox. Does the signifier "Merlot" correspond with the 'truth' of the bottle I polished off last night, or do we hold in our thoughts a different "signified" of bottle-of-Merlot-ness? Perhaps we're dreaming of the same bottle!" -FinsburyParkCarrots

  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    I know Aldeburgh. It's only sixty miles from Cambridge. It's the very England that many of the Georgian Poets of 1910-1935 wrote about. It inspires wistfulness and its memory in the mind becomes one with all elegy.
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    You know, Sir Philip Sidney coined the word "conversation", as Katherine Duncan-Jones is wont to point out. Sidney went to Cambridge, I think. So did Nick Drake, for a year. He said,

    "If songs were lines in a conversation
    The situation would be fine."

    Well, then, let us all make our poetry converse.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    Originally posted by FinsburyParkCarrots
    "If songs were lines in a conversation
    The situation would be fine."

    Well, then, let us all make our poetry converse.

    amen, Prof. Fins! :D

    Aldeburgh, and Southwold too

    if I hadn´t touched the grounds, I´d not believe
    that these places actually exist
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    Originally posted by dyaogirl
    Oh! exhale lovely! I can hear the melody of silence. :)

    is this dyaogirl responding to my words?

    wow,

    thank you

    :)
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.

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