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Memories

I believe
his eyes betokened
the pioneer spirit,
as did the jut of his jaw
- so forcibly -
the farsighted gaze,
the winglike structure of his mind.
He gerrymandered
the boundaries of my heart
- my heliocentric constituency -
to include him at every turn.
He’s my memory now,
a surface hard
with incised marks,
that he made impassable
to temptation and doubt.
I feel again
infinitesimal pain.
My whole being cries out for him.
But it intimates - the silent Paraclete -
and every mortal word of it
is le mot juste.

Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
Last few words: 
This is a vintage poem, part of a collection I'm building.
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

that the language gives pause at first; but then I realize that it gives one things to think about. The words are tantamount to the feelings expressed and of a grand nature. Nice job. ~ Geez.
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There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

I agree about the language, Geez. It's part of a collection I'm gathering together, with vintage or rare forms and words.
I'm glad it makes you think, sorry about that! lol. The words are rather unusual. Best wishes.

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

we can only crawl or crave to be
about others I can't speak
it's voiceless me only

Hi wkamen, what a sad, poignant poem. So powerful. I love the imagery of the sea and other of the lovers' favorite places.
I would only suggest that you "prune" it a little. You, take out some extra words to make it smoother.
No other nits, enjoyed and keep 'em coming.

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment
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