Through the hole in the curtain
I look at the sky.
Its colors are slowly blanching.
Naked branches are drawn
by a careless hand: black lines,
dimly gleaming tangle,
wet bark and new torrents
beneath a cloudy blanket
Russians would call туман [toomun].
My darling, I know the word
but will never pronounce it.
It wouldn't be right.
And only at night
hidden behind the curtain
from self and all my unraveling versions
I mouth the word,
I taste its short vowels
that cannot be heard.
I melt sparkling silence
that Russians call лёд [leart].
I talk about the colors
slowly soaked into a welcoming darkness,
the faraway towns, turrets,
resounding bells,
and where they call us,
about the life once chosen,
and journeys with no return.
I talk still tasting the word
I long to pronounce,
still rolling it on my tongue,
dissolving, unfolding
from sweet to forlorn.
Comments
I get...
a very somber feeling from this one. I like the hesitancy in saying THE word. The poem sounds like a conversation practiced for an occasion, but not sure if it will ever be spoken. Just a couple of things I'd like to say. I don't think that you really need the line: "by careless hand of a child" [besides, I wouldn't describe a child's drawing as anything careless]. I would also change the word [talk] to speak in the line: "still tasting the word." Or maybe just delete the [ I talk still ] altogether. I think it would give it a bit more starkness. ~ Geezer.
.
Right on the spot.
Right on the spot.
Dear Geezer,
It is a treat to be read by you.
You did get the vibe precisely the way I intended.
Your help with selection of words is much appreciated.
I agree I missused the word "careless", I meant artless, naive, worryless. Something like that. How would you describe a hand of a child?
I would...
describe it as deliberate, careful, maybe [ artless, naïve ]. Nice job! Me a treat? Thank you very much! ~ Geezer.
.
лёд [leart].
лёд [leart].
did you mean heart???
and
also the hole in the atmosphere
known as the Ozone hole
to prevent slicing radiations
harmful ones of the otherwise radiant sun
about a child Gee has advised
all kids are innocent
No I meant the word that
No I meant the word that rhyms with heard but starts with L
ok
ok understood
So sweet and ever so tenderly
So sweet and ever so tenderly written with heart and sensual beauty...Just lovely all the way through!
Did you guess the word she is
Did you guess the word she is afraid to say?
love
love
Thank you.
Thank you.
This is so nice
love this
I talk about the colors
slowly soaked into a welcoming darkness,
the faraway towns, turrets,
resounding bells,
and where they call us,
about the life once chosen,
and journeys with no return.
nice everything. words. you have captured the innocence of our native tongues.
Thank you for reading, Mark.
Thank you for reading, Mark.
love
love
Shhhh don't tell anybody.
Shhhh don't tell anybody.
Hahaha
its the most taboo subject
its the most taboo subject and the most difficult thing to say , to write about , it is beyond dangerous to feel and nothing will brighten your life more or destroy faster
Love Z
Hi IRiz,
Hi IRiz,
I really enjoyed your poem. It made me think of the period when the great Russian poets often spoke of 'Mother Russia' and their love for her. I also picked up a heavy feel of nostalgia.
"from self and all her unraveling versions" should that be, all my...?
Ah you are right, I should
Ah you are right, I should change it.
I always enjoy your poems;
I always enjoy your poems; you seem to me singularly honest, particularly about your individuated plight in life. So many people like to cover it in gloss and nonsense; there is none of this with your work, which I hope develops farther and farther.
Hm,
Hm,
Dear Q, (by the way I always want to call you QuickSilver),
As it takes a poet to read one, it takes an honest soul to like my simple lines. Thank you.