Remembering the time of our youths,
once lost, now golden forever. Soft
like the rain that strokes the gentle land
in streams of love and gratitude.
Watching the wisps of powdererd age
grow weary and slow with wondering.
Searching eyes of mystery flow through
the memories of years to come, and wash the
stained horizon of our youths.
I just had a sudden poetry hairball, and since my fingers were already hovering above the keys, I had to let it come out onto this page:)
Well, now it's here, I wonder what you think?
Icthus
I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety. --Psalm 4 verse 8
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I meant to comment on this ages ago but I'm lazy. :) My apologies, cupcake. Have some thoughts:
ReplyDeleteThe line "the memories of years to come" gives the ending of the poem this incredibly rich, tragic feel, as if the casual hopes of the future that the speaker had toyed with in the past – perhaps while laughing, carefree, over a glass of gin about all the possibilities of it with his partner - have suddenly evapourated so that the happy prospect of the future he'd longed for is now a thing to fear; grim and unwanted. But of course, I just made up to sound pretty, as it doesn't fit with the idea of eyes "flowing through/the memories" as that implies fluidity and ease.
OK HERE IS WHAT I'M ACTUALLY TALKING ABOUT NOW
Reading it through a second time, I notice that the beginning hints at someone arriving, or someone meeting someone else, at the gates of heaven. However that would render "once lost" as redundant, therefore, we assume, that this meeting must be bittersweet, combining the joy of reunion with the bitter knowledge of time wasted alone through a long, weary life.
But then we get to "the wisps of powdererd age" and I can't help but think of the curls of smoke and the powder of crack or some kind of drug that kills life or - more appropriately - brings forward death; the end of life. Coupled with the amused tone of the speaker who "grow[s] weary and slow with wondering [when he will finally reach the gates to meet this someone]" it displays, for me, a whole new kind of tragedy; the tragedy of those who get left behind when their lover (or what have you) dies.
Then the poem ends with the idea of - not atonement, although a certain level of forgiveness appears to be required but - the past being forgotten (or maybe just placed aside as the speakers tone previously suggests) so that, together, they can begin to overcome the past and their own flaws and learn to just be happy.
I know you hate it when I read too much into your poetry but…I got addicted with this one. :D So yeah. I also doubt you were planning for it to mean any of the above (and consequently, my ramblings will hold no truth other than that of simple guesswork) but this is what I got from it.
Personal poetry. ^^ x
*loves*
So I wrote a bit of an essay there. Sorry. :)
ReplyDeleteMella:)
ReplyDeleteI love you, and I especially love it when you read so deeply into my poetry; you notice things I never noticed myself:)
I don't write my poetry on purpose; there are no cleverly planted messages or meanings; I just write what my mind and hand tell me to:)
When you find things in there, for me it's as if you really want to get to know me, and you know where to look.
I love you:)
xx
^^ x
ReplyDelete