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Closing the Blinds

Evening sinks below
sailing clouds.
The bronze barometer,
detained on unstable,
reminds me of the contained,
organized life on a ship.
Night will arrive with the tide,
far from these scented eucalyptus trees.

I search for myself: long to see my image
through eyes of blossoming nights.
Breathe beauty into my lungs
from Nature’s enigmatic mirrors.
Deep within my arteries
I feel habits entwined over years;
another night fleeing.

It’s late now.
Night anchors behind honeysuckles,
sends messages coded in pheromones.
You’ve arrived.
I must close the blinds.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

Hi, Gracy,
Most of your poetry is intimate, belonging to you deeply - but, for me, this is so, so much more than most. I don't sense the water - the sea - being as physically close to you as it is in your heart. The amazing sailing clouds, bronze barometer, the night anchoring behind the honeysuckles. It's as if your longing is being heard from a far distance and is now waiting outside your window - but it's a bit too painful, too near. Either you close your blinds to keep the pain from entering, or close them to keep the longing and the memories from leaving. Gracy, this is beautiful. I thank you...
L

Dear Lavender, yes, that is more or less what I was attempting to express, although I did not mean it to be totally sad. The loved one arrives and that's why the blinds are closed and they are together. Maybe it's not clear, will check. Thanks so much for expressing your like for my imagery. There was a beautiful garden on the farm where I grew up, I always helped my Mom and she taught me so much.
Thanks again for stopping by, Gracy

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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

i'm not sure i know what the poem "is about", but some poems are successful without that. Whatever the narrative may be, it is not apparent to me after a few reads, but there's enough undercurrent to keep the boat moving. There is clearly an erotic backdrop: scented trees, honeysuckle and pheromones, the anticipation of something.

To me the poem is like an abstract expressionist painting, or Fauvre painting. We know what the painting is about, and we don't. The poem conveys nostalgia to me. It is ghostly.

I generally prefer more substance, for a poem to have somewhat equal weight on both sides of the tightrope- accessibility and poetic understanding. This poems drifts to one side, but the sound and imagery keep it relevant. The question becomes one of intent- if you want us to know the subjects, as in Plath's poetry, or you will leave that open, like Stevens. That question of intent is a major one in our current poetry. Is a poem a success if it just moves the reader? Or a failure if the writer to fails to convey their intent. Most people will shout quickly- "It doesn't matter." I'm not so sure. The poems I love the most, the top 100, are poems in which I am let into the action.

Eumolpus
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

Thanks so much for giving me your constructive criticism. Yes, this poem is sort of oblique, if that's the correct word. For me, it means that a person is waiting for a loved one, meanwhile the waiting one is doing some philosophical thinking or questionning. Then the lover arrives, they enter and close the blinds. They are together.
I love Sylvia Plath, one can listen to her recite "Daddy" on Utube. It's kinda creepy. Don't know Stevens. My mother read poetry to me when I was in the cradle, so I soon memorized the poems, which came with wonderful illustrations. Doreé and so on. I think it's good to memorize, nowadays people say one has to understand, but I found that understanding comes with time and the exercise is good for everybody's memory, old or young.
I agree that i've been vague this time. Might go over it and see what improvements I can make.
As always, my gratitude. Best, Gracy

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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

wow, in every line theres something special, what more can be said. You bring my thoughts to a meeting with two people very much in love. your last lines are truly wonderful. could even be a dream. i shall come back to see. in anycase yet another stunning write.

Thank you...Teddy

Dear Teddy, thanks so much for visiting and for your comments. You've understood perfectly what I was trying to convey. Two lovers meeting, as simple as that.
I'm always happy when you stop by. Please feel free to criticize, I can take it!
Best, Gracy

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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

I would pass my thought of course if I thought you were in need, however you are my masterclass so thank you.

Thank you...Teddy

Like many established and learned poet member here it's not just pleasure to read your poems Gracy but also they are like a lesson from which I am able to learn something new...

was a great experience to sense this poem...

regards

raj (sublime_ocean)

This reeks of a perfume long remembered and the night is a powerful friend. The silence and darkness bring dreams of resurrection and the rest of the world must not be let in. The secret is kept. ~ Geez.
.

Our Chatroom is open 24/7 Feel free to use it for
keeping in touch We have poets around the world and it is fun
to have real-time conversations with those that are up
all night or on the other side of the world.
.

Dear Geez, what lovely things you imagine about my poem. You've told me nuances that I hadn't known! Resurrection, secrets, the world outside.
Tx so much, Gracy

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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

Hello raj, I'm not an experienced poet, neither am I particularly learned...lol. I just try to do my best. Never tired of saying that I have my parents to thank for my English, which is getting more difficult for me since nearly all of my British relations have passed on. Only my daughter here, but we mostly speak Spanish. Do you speak another language, raj?
Thank you for stopping by, always a pleasure for me, Gracy

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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

I think this is my most favorite of all I had read from you thus far. It is just beautiful poetry

Our chat room is not only there for Thursday afternoon chat 3:30-4:30
but it is there and ready for all to use at anytime of day come often and hook up in conversation to those across the globe

Thank you, dear lynn, I'm so glad you like it. Must go now, having supper with my daughter. Love, Gracy

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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

pensive and anticipatory.
some of the phrases give me a melancholy feeling (I search for myself, another night fleeing, it's late now) even if that wasn't the intent. I love all of the nautical imagery and wonder what was the reason for your draw to that aspect in this poem.
enjoyed!:)

raffy

Hi again, I really don't know why I thought of the sea then. Just one of those things we poets do. Yes, it's melancholy, but it ends well. Ah, memories, so fleeting. Thanks so much for your visit.
Best, Gracy

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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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