My world

By Beeme

Tue, 15 Jun 2010
  • 1653 reads
9 comments
 

The phantom voice calling in the
wind is yours,
and your cries grow louder.
Until the sparkling water
cupped in the hands of the past
almost spills over.

I stand upon a mountain of uncertainty,
green and brown sand dunes
with many fractures.
The rippling blue lagoon below
lapping hungrily at my feet, although
I try to bury old feelings in the sand.
They always resurface.

The moon cowers in the sky, pitch
black carved from the deception
which is comfort itself. The sparkling
stars consisting of wishes made by
lovers, shake and confuse fisherman.

Gone is the world we once live in;
where ripened fruit sprang from my
vibrant orchard and you could
navigate around the landscapes
of my world. Here the sun is burnt-
shrivelled into a vision of holocaust.
Flashing as a warning at the border
of my heart.

Certificate 12
Poem
Love

Comments

Submitted by RachelPatricia on
I love this, Beeme. Not sure what you're not sure about; this is beautiful ;) Love the final stanza in particular; the last two lines are brilliant and very vivid. Looking back at it for a second time, I think you're uncertainty might lie in an issue around structure. I just had a dabble with the first stanza - 'The phantom voice calling in the wind is yours, and your cries grow louder. Sparkling water cupped in the hands of the past almost spills over.' I'm not saying this is any better, just thought I'd see if the structure was what was worrying you. Either way, there are so many captivating images throughout this piece, Beeme. It really is a lovely poem :) Hope my thoughts help a little! Rachel xx

Submitted by Beeme on
Thank you Rachel, I'm glad you enjoyed :) Yeah I think the structure may be what I was unsure about, the punctuation seems to be in the wrong place. I'll have a look again and make some changes, thank you your thoughts helped a lot :) Beeme xx

k.

Submitted by MistakenMagic on
Some absolutely breath-taking imagery in this one, Beeme. Especially: 'The moon cowers in the sky, pitch black carved from the deception which is comfort itself.' and 'Here the sun is burnt- shrivelled into a vision of holocaust. Flashing as a warning at the border of my heart.' Well done ;) Magic xxx

 

Submitted by Beeme on
Thank you so much Magic! Your words mean so much; especially as the imagery in your poetry is always stunning, it means a lot getting praise on here from poets who's work I hold in such high esteem. I'm very happy you enjoyed :) Beeme xx

k.

Submitted by Nolan on
I find your poem terribly dramatic. Otherwise good work. Cheers Beeme, and the best!
 

Submitted by Beeme on
Hehe, Thanks Nolan, all the best to you too. Beeme xx

k.

Submitted by rjnewlyn on
As Rachel says, not quite knowing what it's about adds to the attraction - allows it to mean something different (probably) to each reader, which is ultimately what poetry's about I suppose. There used to be this tradition in mediaeval European literature of 'proper' allegory usually involving quests through walled gardens and mazes which were supposed to represent the courtship ritual in the days when it couldn't be expressed out loud (usually because it was someone else's wife involved and they had a bigger sword). Reading this reminded me a little of that idea - particularly your last stanza with its orchard and landscapes. Not that I'm assuming you had that rather obscure literature in mind, but it's odd how these things echo through time. Sorry, I'm in a verbose mood tonight. Liked it a lot. Rob

 

Submitted by Beeme on
Thanks for sharing some of your knowledge, it's always very enjoyable reading your relpies, I'm very happy you enjoyed this. Beeme xx

k.

Submitted by Nolan on
I appreciate his comment too. Thanks Rob!