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| Subject: Untitled mess | |
Author: Jess | [ Next Thread |
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] Date Posted: 14:35:15 02/01/08 Fri I can see how this forum will be difficult....it's hard to help when you don't entirely grasp what the poet is trying to say. Also, with free-form poetry, there isn't the struggle of finding the right word to rhyme, it is what it is. So maybe some background will help. This...mess...I started this morning. It's a piece of the bitter January I had (yay, it's over!). My Most Beloved has a kidney disease, and the kidney that was transplanted a few years ago is failing...to the extent of dialysis etc. All whining of 'life isn't fair' aside, all I can think of is the poison and toxins filling up his body, and the liquids spilling into his lungs and crushing his heart. (This popped up in previous poems), and my desire to be able to save him, and who knows, maybe I will be able to donate one of my kidneys. But for not the images jumble into a Frieda Kahlo mosaic, and a sort-of poem that isn't clarifying for me. The image I'm going for is Ice (I'm SO sick of winter!), extricating all my organs and becoming a gaping, bloody hole that somehow still functions (O, I do love my metaphors!), while he, full and whole to the point of bursting lies lifeless. I could shove my good organs down his throat in a futile gesture. The blood I'm spilling freely is healthy, dark, arterial blood, while his, merely dripping (not being pulsed by a heart, see) is a diluted bright cherry (diluted by the unfiltered toxins, an observation of his). I don't think I captured either the visual image or the emotional agony. It's clunky. Help! My hands to elbow in gore, you laid out and staring. the deep arterial red flowing from me endlessly and the bright cherry dripping from you in a way that is no longer driven by a beating heart, or refreshed by sighing lungs. My scars, my wounds, the holes in my body are mocked by my motions, by your stillness, intact, but lifeless. The only purpose I have here in the snow may be futile. To take these things that have left me empty and fill you. Despite the blankness of your eyes, I give you my lungs, my heart, my kidneys to breathe you, beat you, cleanse you, in pieces, down your throat though you’re bloated and full and maybe it’s too late, deeper and more, my blood, my soul, my will, my words, my youth, my life, Till I am an empty bloody hole, and you are full and whole, and yet I am moving around your stillness, and only I still have a voice to note how january is the most bitter of months. [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ] |