I would like to apologize for being so very late with this. It came to me in bits and pieces, and it simply wasn’t ready for public consumption until today. This is obviously for the month of January. Until yesterday, I had been working a temp job that, combined with getting ready and commuting, took up over 12 hours of my day, 5 days a week. It was taxing trying to manage that and the other obligations in my life, so I have had very little free time since the beginning of December, to the point that I haven’t even had a chance to look at my feed reader (read: your blog posts) in seemingly forever. I just opened it and nearly had a heart attack. It will be tackled later. Anyway, head over here to read the other submissions which are in all likelihood much better and timely than my own. (Feel free to chastise my tardiness in the comments.) My own is currently untitled. I also apologize for whatever format this decides to take; it does have a very specific visual orientation the way I composed it and shows up on a Word document, but for some reason has lost its form here. I have tried to correct it to the extent that I can, but it would appear that WordPress isn’t having it. This is quite frustrating since the form is integral to the poem. I’ll keep trying, but if you’re curious, email me and I’ll send you the Word document so you may see how it is supposed to look.
Word: Leaving
Question: Where can compassion be found?
Raindrops fall on punished pave
The push of wind hardens again,
Leaving a shield of ice in
Its wake, cracking and holding
Under the weight and growing,
Growing evermore while tears just
Drip
and
drop
and
pelt
and
pound
Burning through freezing
‘Til hope is drowned
Standing
In wait
Umbrella in hand
Holding
Off
Pulsing
Pain
Tears slide down where yours would be
To waiting ice—a glaze, a sea
Prayers sent out on sails of leaves
Bereft of roots beneath the freeze
And ‘til my heart runs black and blue
I wait in the shadows
Breathing for two
I give up. It’s not going to work. This looks nothing like how it’s supposed to look.
Right, I thought you had been missing for a while. I hope you’ll have some more time to relax soon. And read my blog, of course, I am very important.
Maybe write it out and take a picture?
Well, in any case… I’m still, kinda, working on #7… =(
maybe I’ll come up with something … now?
A corkscrew? Anyway I like it, and I like the fact that shape is supposed to be part of it. That’s not the kind of limit I push, but I like it when others do! You have my email, so please send me the document and we’ll see if my guess is even close…….
Corkscrew? I thought it was words dripping down untill they get divided by that umbrella at the bottom…
Some of the wordier imagery remains obscure to me and shrouded. Very poignant, though, for all that.
+JMJ+
My goodness, what a powerful ending! I’ve read the poem over three times, so that I could comment on the whole thing, but the last verse always blows all other thoughts out of my mind by the time I finish it.
“Tears slide down where yours would be” . . . There is a magic spell in this line!
I can’t guess what the shape should be, but I can feel your frustration. Please send me the Word document as well! I’d love to see its real shape. =)
PS–Lindsay, since we’ve started February’s game, would you please join us at Crosses and Cradles this Wednesday and leave this link there again? Some people aren’t keeping track of the January post any longer, so it will be best to let them know there that they can read your poem now. =) Thanks!
Lindsay –
Ellen phrased perfectly what I should like to say. “I like the fact that shape is supposed to be part of it.” (Person holding an umbrella? Seems most apt to the subject-matter, although my first thought was a chalice — at least the upper portion looked like that.)
I cherish the resolute sound of “Drip and drop and pelt and pound.” I cherish the whole poem, but that line (those lines?) jumps out as singularly good!
Wow! I really like this. And yes, I’d like to see how the formatting ties in. I really can’t decide which part I like best, though I’m leaning toward agreeing with E, that the last stanza is just lovely, particularly the first three, but also the last four. Brava, ’twas worth the wait.
Your poem makes me feel cold inside. But I like it very much. As Dauvit said, very much worth the wait. I’m honestly not going to try to even pick a favorite part, I think it all speaks very powerfully.