She picks at the frayed edges of her dress
The boredom is like glass
Cutting
Rocking
Needing
Halfway between asleep and awake
A slap on the back
Another thankless breath
I pick up the phone
To hear a voice
You are moving forward
Your call will be answered
As soon as possible
Funny
Everything can be read at least twice
Words are the food they won’t let us eat
The door knocked
It stopped our heart
The ultimate weapon
To render us null and void
A strand of hair can be a tripwire
If placed correctly
We don’t have the energy to fight any more
No inclination to walk away
Every path a rabbit hole
Every view black
Practiced
Running deep within
The day is crisp
Like dead skin
Stitching the seam of our being
What lies beneath she asks
Flies and cherry pies
Splinters
Wood
Nothing
Hardly the tools of transformation
I wonder who rocked our crib she asks
I don’t like to say we never had one
We are daughters of ash and stone
Fire and brimstone
Treacle and sugar
Sticky fingers running under open wounds
We exhausted our supplies long ago
And have nothing left to demand.
Such a poignant piece Jae. However regardless of the negatives which should always be ignored always be ignored keep Pandora in the picture as hope doesn't ever fly away. In addition I really must applaud the way you include so many prompt words in your writing.
ReplyDeleteThank you very much Old Egg - I always applaud that you write such original pieces for each prompt site ..
DeleteThis is superb.
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteOh, I like all the images and implications a lot. But this one stands out for me:
ReplyDelete"The door knocked
It stopped our heart
The ultimate weapon
To render us null and void"
The ultimate weapon, indeed. Thanks for sharing Jae
Thank you too Mariya - always love your profile pic too ;)
DeleteYes, superb.
ReplyDeleteThank you Mary
DeleteI wonder who rocked our crib...
ReplyDeleteWhen one loses a parent early - yes a question I have often asked.
...and now there is no one left to ask, much less - tell.
Thanks for stopping by my post on the prompt.
Thank you too Jules - yes gaps in our stories can make the emptiness inside feel greater
DeleteEvery path a rabbit hole, every view black. - the story of my life. Blocked tunnels, brick walls, Rosey's raised hand. Do I care? Do I heck. Life is wonderful.
ReplyDeleteVisit Keith's Ramblings!
Thank you Keith - Rosey raises her hand - never ;) we hope one day to feel the wonder..and indeed fullness..
DeleteYep things can get bleak and often it seems there is no way out of the maze but really a lot of life is endurance testing I think. Answering machines are part of the modern age. Everyone texts ...people don't have time to talk.The world has become more brutal and mechanised.
ReplyDeleteIt's a struggle for everyone...Could relate to this poem...
Thank you Cressida - yes it is an endurance test...perhaps the bleakness sets in when you start to wonder what the tests are for and will it make the outcome any different..but that's a bit weighty for a sunday morning..so here's hoping it will be a peaceful Sunday
DeleteWow. This read was quite a ride. Thanks for sharing!
ReplyDeleteBenjamin
Wow. This read was quite a ride. Powerful imagery. Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteBenjamiin
Thank you very much Benjamin
DeleteA bleak future, as found in a hopeless past. So many stark images that describes a world where options are too few.
ReplyDeleteYour first sentence is very helpful thank you Bjorn..
DeleteI would love to try and write one poem in your unique style ... But I doubt I can combine abstract images with touches of emotion and make it so personal at the same time. Awesome.
ReplyDeleteThank you kindly thotpurge...sometimes i wish i could write a poem about fluffy kittens and sunshine - at least we both have a writing goal!
Delete"The day is crisp Like dead skin"
ReplyDeleteah tough, but tomorrow will be better. :)
Maybe even the sun will come out! Thank you very much ds :)
DeleteThe world is in such an imbalanced state right, and this poem points toward those who struggle with it.
ReplyDeleteThank you very much Marilyn
DeleteYour poetic voice and style fascinates me .. very powerful .. like this poem. Bastet
ReplyDeleteThank you kindly Georgia...much appreciated
DeleteOhh such powerful end lines! Another masterpiece :D
ReplyDeleteBeautifully executed.
Lots of love,
Sanaa
Thank you kindly Sanaa :)
DeleteEveryone should have a crib to look back on....
ReplyDeleteIf in reality one does not have a crib, I think one should create one with one's imagination & cradle yourself every night!
That's a comforting thought thank you very much Mary
DeleteThis is more single-minded than many of your poems. At least through "The Day is Crisp" it focuses on trapping devices that we set off ourselves and isolates them brilliantly. Then as the narrator continues, I wondered if you, the poet you, had ever seen Julie Dash's "Daughters of the Dust." an amazing African American film about leaving a homeland, narrated by an unborn baby? I think there is never ransom in self-motivated lives--only passion. If the hem is frayed, that little one might be inspired to mend it (your illustration gave me that idea). (There are no princes in shining armor, either, but there are caterpillars.) I loved the sticky fingers this time, the sense of picking at our own bloody scabs. (I hope I am not being dense or surrealistic.)
ReplyDeleteThank you Susan - never dense or surrealistic....as always an insightful and understanding comment..yes..she is wise to try and fix the edges and no, I haven't seen that film but will investigate..thank you kindly as ever
DeleteThe words are so simple but the message behind them felt raw and filled with an echo that reverberated. Fantastic.
ReplyDeleteThank you very much Sherri - i am glad something about us is simple!
DeleteWe exhausted our supplies long ago
ReplyDeleteAnd have nothing left to demand.
Things invariably will come to an end, for everything and for everyone it will be the same. What difference there are are the rewards given to us for the generosity we extended to others during our life-time. Rightly said Jae!
Hank
And rightly said too Hank - thank you very much
DeleteThey won't let you eat words? I nibble them when no one is looking!
ReplyDeleteWe will remember that trick - thank you kindly Magical
Deletewhen the world loses balance,
ReplyDeletewe lose faith.
lovely insights in your poem.
Yes that is very true - thank you Maggie
DeleteWow, kiddo, this poem is potent and powerful, in your own inimitable style. I hear a stronger voice than usual in this poem, a powerful fatigue. I was most struck by "Words are the food they wont let us eat", and the wondering about who rocked the cradle and "I dont like to say we never had one." Sad, my friend. Your closing lines hit my heart.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much - as ever - Sherry - a powerful fatigue - what a wonderful expression perhaps it forces our voice to be stronger even if our souls aren't quite ready to follow..
Deleteyour poetry is so unique - threaded stanzas that are like a multitude of voice
ReplyDeleteThank you for following that thread telltale..
DeleteOh, I see when waiting time can cause the boredom and more...familiar....but the phrase 'A strand of hair can be a tripwire
ReplyDeleteIf placed correctly ' ~ I decode it in the Big possibilities....Yes, we have to continue to progress, move forward, to fix our dresses if we need them, and...we need hear our empowering voices aloud!
That's a wonderful thought humbird..maybe we should deploy that strand of hair...yes fixing the things we can and moving forward in the ways we can must be key - thank you
Deletevery powerful images, love the style you use.. raw.
ReplyDeleteThank you very much Natasa
Delete"She picks at the frayed edges of her dress
ReplyDeleteThe boredom is like glass" ... I know, right?!
"A strand of hair can be a tripwire
If placed correctly" ... Ha ha. So awesome. :)
"Every view black
Practiced" ... Nice.
"Treacle and sugar
Sticky fingers running under open wounds" ... Naughty.
Love it. More, more, more!
Thanks Ocean - we love your end lines...they made us :) thank you
Delete"Hardly the tools of transformation" Yet, anything might be used to transform the moment. One can mix water with ash and paint the stone. Or, throw it at the next individual who attempts to steal our cradle. Both would be transforming actions. Perhaps much better to throw it that glass of boredom and listen to the crackle and crash as it shatters? Words are spiritual food and ash makes good ink.
ReplyDeleteElizabeth
Ah, Elizabeth you shine a light through the darkest treacle days..thank you kindly for that..and we will try and reconsider our tools...thank you as always
DeleteI think you have really out did your self in this presentation of imagery to concoct a scene of boredom or feeling bored. Is wonderful that your poet spirit has written its way out
ReplyDeleteHave a nice Sunday
Much love...
Thank you very much Gillena - yes boredom indeed - but we like the idea of a poet spirit
DeleteI pick up the phone
ReplyDeleteTo hear a voice
You are moving forward
Your call will be answered
As soon as possible
sometimes there is the need for a voice connection and we wait for that call but, it never comes...please leave a message after the tone...beep beep beep
Thank you for calling Truedessa...answer machines can be better than automated messages...you can say whatever you like easy in the comfort of anonymity and a two minute recording time ;)
DeleteBrims and bubbles with awesome insights and wise perceptions rendered in words that transport. Very cool writing.
ReplyDeleteThank you very much Wendy - we like cool ;)
DeleteA interesting look at who we really are.
ReplyDeleteThank you GL - we are indeed interesting - if as a species we choose to look ;)
DeleteThat sounds like a very good middle ground - thank you very much Loredana
ReplyDeleteI especially like "there is no door because you are comfortable here." I've felt that.
ReplyDelete