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Dance of the ceramicist (?The process of "search & destroy")

Submitted by Cloudthings on Mon, 2012-03-19 21:56

He calls this his dance with the big C
I feel so selfish if tears reach my eyes
he’s far too precious to me
Unwilling to court any sense of demise

It's just - he makes the world stop & centre
Inspires me to dwell in a paradise
He makes me live in the moment
Waking my ears & my eyes

I enter his holy garden
Where the fruits of his labour are bright, tall & flavour filled
& hope he might gift me his pardon
If I cause a commotion when the space is so stilled

He’s the only one I wrote to
as a poet, so long ago
He lives every moment an artist
& tends every space with a masterful flow

Anxious when out of his sanctuary
I see the child in his soul
& I'd bridge it for him thankfully
The world of “unthinking”, & lack of control

The TV in the waiting rooms
The waiting far too long
I see the dance in his fingers
it challenges him, no matter how strong

I’d give up my comfort to soothe him
I’d hand him my ease & my joy
I would let him inside all my history
If it would help with the process of search & destroy

They say “Chemo”, as if it’s a buddy
I know, I know, I know
In the end all our challenges must become friends
But the brutality haunts me so

So I find an excuse to be driving there
Through the forest he turned to his gallery
& take up the offer of studio time
with a wish to add to his bravery

& still I feel so mercenary
Since there’s just so much beauty for me
But no-one should dwell in some purgatory
Guilt will not nurture the heart to be free

So I step into that peace filled place
Reverent & full
With calm in my breast & a smiling face
& a willingness to give, or wait, or pull

Awash with possibility,
& remember not to fight it
I focus my sensibility
Embrace the process, not despite it

I will always be

The bowl

Willing to hold,

To be filled,

to feed,

to be open & empty & still…

I will

water the seed

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
I do try to avoid it here, but this is probably more of a song lyric , I can feel it as it slips onto the page (that sneaks in when I use rhyme, I'm afraid)... Still, unless anyone has any protest, I am hoping for the critique & learning that is so creatively inspiring here much of the time, can you read this as a poem? If not, can you try on shifting the phrasing to fit a melody in your head, or even your heart? Hope so. I doubt it will ever hit any public ear since it is about a dear friend, in a small & close community, a bit too obviously with such a private matter (even though he is using his experience as an artwork & actually it is quite public, given his status as an artist the ABC (major Australian radio) is following his progress via his blog & interviews etc. If anyone is interested I can add the web address.
Editing stage: 
Editing - draft

Comments

wesley snow

Sat, 2012-03-24 23:57

wesley snow's picture
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and all too common. In your last words you mentioned that "all of our challenges must become friends". I would probably change "friends" to "close", for I know I will never accept my manic depression as anything other than the enemy, but I agree that to manage them we must understand them and to understand we must be close. Closer than the challenge would bring itself if left to its own devices.
Personally, I see no difference between "song lyric" and poetry beyond the terminology. Some of the most beautiful poetry I have ever read are song lyrics. To this day I sing "The Impossible Dream" to myself and marvel that with time it does not become cheesy and cheap.
So no, don't mess with the phrasing for that reason only. If your poetry flows emotionally from you imagining them as song lyrics, then run with it. Learn more about poetry and you will write better song lyrics.
This piece is intense and I give it one of my highest offers of praise for such a genre.
I will not read it again.
wesley

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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