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early wakeful hours
another night when sleep
is devoured
out of darkness
to coolly caress my cheek
a gentle
spring’s breath flutters
laced with the taste of
bitter-sweet memories
a melancholic melody
a ballad that recalls past simple days
sends soft slow blues
wending to meet my soul
with reflections on what
now seem fiction stories
an alien mass sits
inside my chest
a surreal loss of control
sends pain
that rides burnt waters to my eyes
I raise my glass to empty air
to placid days and evenings that come
no more
and there
between two storms
memory
wish
I am lost
in a world that is
too tired to feign concern
.
Style / type:
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity):
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage:
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Region & Country
Western Australia
Favorite Poets
Favourite poets? So many, so varied. I like particular songs, not necessarily the singer... and the same goes for poetry. I can honestly say though, that Alfred Noyes' The Highwayman was what inspired my love of poetry - my mother began reading it to me when I was still a baby, and it became my favourite bedtime story
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Comments
Nordic cloud
Wed, 2012-09-26 11:56
Lace-leafed butterfly
Lace-leafed butterfly
memories surreally
floating, blue.
Just popping in to see, judyanne, love annanya.
"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.
judyanne
Thu, 2012-09-27 08:15
hi annanya
lovely to see you
xxx
love judyanne
'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)
author commentBlueDemon77
Wed, 2012-09-26 20:29
Hi Judy!
This is as meticulously crafted as any sestina. I could point out all the incredible technical touches you utilize to weave this magic, but being largely Dionysian/Cthonic, I prefer to swim in the magic of exposed truth. It is the silver string that connects us.
It's an understatement to say that this is a gorgeous, melancholy, epiphany of a write.
Ron
Blue Demon77
"What I want is to be what I was before the knife,
before the brooch pin, before the salve, fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind."
The Eye Mote-Sylvia Plath
judyanne
Thu, 2012-09-27 08:21
as this isn't a sestina, ron,
as this isn't a sestina, ron, i can only imagine that you mean i have captured the emotion of duress the form usually attempts..
if that is what you mean i am grateful for the very supportive comment
- lol if that isn't what you mean please lend me a cloth to wipe the egg off my face :)
thanks ron
love judy
xxx
'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)
author commentBlueDemon77
Mon, 2012-10-15 23:11
Hi Judy!
No, I wasn't suggesting your poem was a sestina or anything like that. My statement was that your use of style and technique perfectly suited your content in a powerful and unique way. The sestina part came in because to actually do a good poem in the rigid form of a sestina (or worse yet a Paradelle) is a large accomplishment. You've written a beautiful and memorable poem.
Ron
Blue Demon77
"What I want is to be what I was before the knife,
before the brooch pin, before the salve, fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind."
The Eye Mote-Sylvia Plath
judyanne
Tue, 2012-10-16 08:15
thanks for getting back to me ron
and especially thanks for the very supportive comments
love judy
xxx
'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)
author commentNordic cloud
Mon, 2012-10-08 21:59
I raise my glass
to empty air" I like that, its 4 am.
in Oslo and I am totally awake,
I'll raise my glass to you my
judyanne. xx
"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.
judyanne
Fri, 2012-10-12 10:55
and i raise my glass
to you annanya
thank you
love judyanne
xxx
'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)
author commentIan.T
Tue, 2012-10-09 04:22
Judy
Definitely not a Sestina but a beaut of a piece..
You know, this is where pieces like this should be explained to young poets as the crafting of words and what it is not..Dionysian/Cthonic I can't even relate this piece to that era.
A festival or then being part of the Earth, it just doesn't figure .
Your piece to me is pure emotive words brought to us to show another facet of sleeplessness, you will correct me if I am wrong.
It was what I read in your poem and you have written it beautifully,
Yours as always, Ian.T
.
There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..
judyanne
Fri, 2012-10-12 10:57
thanks ian
yes - the melancholy that lives within the early hours of the morning
love judy
xxx
'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)
author commentBlueDemon77
Tue, 2012-10-23 11:56
pardon the comparison....
My initial comment to Judy was meant to state that she had composed a work containing the amount of craft on the side of expressing clear, recognizable emotion as an equal in craft to writing a good sestina. It was meant as a complement and was obviously not clear enough in initial wording since you and Judy didn't understand what I was saying. That would be my fault for not clearly expressing myself.
At the end, I am relatively open-minded. I guess there must be an old that equals wisdom and an old that just means inert. All I can say is if you think being of a certain age is equal to thinking a certain way then you are skimming the surface far more than I thought.
By the way, Dionysian theory was suggested by Nietzsche in 1876 in THE BIRTH OF TRAGEDY.
Ron
PS Judy, I love the poem very much.
Blue Demon77
"What I want is to be what I was before the knife,
before the brooch pin, before the salve, fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind."
The Eye Mote-Sylvia Plath
judyanne
Sat, 2012-10-27 23:05
thanks again ron
but i did understand what you were saying.... i just queried if that was what you were saying and so very honoured by the compliment if it was...
love judy
xxx
'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)
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