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Why
Why? by RW
-
Where could all these black winds take me
They catch my wings and blow
Some times the sun sends secrets sweetly
at other times the razors show
-
though I steer I never fight it
the winds know what I need for now
at times sore racing thoughts ignite it
or else the stagnant breezes flow
-
the squall directs me to an abyss
slows to let me be a feast
to carrion crows and demon’s kiss
the mind rends from the wailing beast
-
This writing is a dangerous game
every naked nerve stripped clean
and any refusal to feel the flame
will start the burning maze between
-
I've lived a thousand lifetimes here
in dream under waking parasol
and far from wise learned not to fear
the wind will make me feel it all
-
So why to write? to trudging raw
aside a thorny, jagged pout
an answer stands for each, an awe
and that I cannot do without
Style / type:
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity):
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction):
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage:
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Region & Country
Columbus, Ohio
Favorite Poets
Rimbaud, Coleridge, Sylvia Plath, Robert Lowell, Allen Ginsberg, Ai, Langston Hughes, Maxine Kumin, Anne Sexton, Kerouac, Burroughs, Amiri Baraka, Wallace Stevens.
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Comments
themoonman
Fri, 2012-06-15 02:56
Hi Blue
This poem is very abstract, which I'm sure you know.
I totally understand the theme, writing takes us anywhere
and everywhere between. Where did the razor come from?
The wind, being the need to write, is a very good but still
abstract way of describing the unending urge. Your pacing
or flow is very good although at least for me some of the
rhyme feels forced instead of naturally spoken.
thank you for posting
arja
Fri, 2012-06-15 03:12
..your reason for writing
..your reason for writing comes in a package of different thoughts that surmounts to different realities..yet I agree in its own abstract.. it pulls me closer to read it 'til the end..
BlueDemon77
Fri, 2012-06-15 03:23
Thanks Arja!
It is my intent to pull my reader closer, see if there isn't a truth that is recognized and shared.
Ron
Blue Demon77
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
author commentBlueDemon77
Fri, 2012-06-15 03:14
Hi themoonman
I'm glad you enjoyed some aspects of the poem. As for the rhyme, I don't think I've ever had an easier more flowing surity of what words were exactly right. I used the wind, the razor, the carrion crows and the wailing beast because writing takes me to some frightful places sometime and It makes me unable to lie to myself too. Thanks for your comments sir!
Ron
Blue Demon77
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
author commentChina Blue
Fri, 2012-06-15 23:32
Ron
I do not critque in the form of rhyme meter etc unless I feel something is out of place
This good sir is remarkable
I pulled exactly the figures as you before I read the comments
Chrys
Chrys
Let your mercy spill on all these burning hearts in hell(Leonard Cohen)
BlueDemon77
Sat, 2012-06-16 18:57
Thank you Chrys!
Of any poem I've written, this is one of a handfull, I feel is finished. Thanks for the kind words!
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
author commentNordic cloud
Sat, 2012-06-16 03:32
..this theatre that the wind cries out
Forced or not Moonman,
Blue Demon's daemonic skies
entice the eyes and mind
to see and feel the words they tell,
in fiery flourish
words spring out
and shake our thoughts about,
they did for me
as I can see
this theatre that the wind cries out
and am indeed made less devout
to poetry.
Ann nordic cloud
"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.
BlueDemon77
Mon, 2012-06-18 00:00
Thanks Ann!
I appreciate your beautiful poetic response. I hope you've not become too much less devout to poetry, just enough to be free.
The same wings that carry my through infernos
show me vistas that fulfill me.
Ron
Blue Demon77
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
author commentNordic cloud
Mon, 2012-06-18 03:48
"less devout to poetry"
Hei Ron,I meant the definition of poetry,
not the groups of words we fling onto the page,
the jumble of letters tamed by our minds
and arranged in order to make some kind of sense,
give some kind of message
and crystallise in each person reading them,
some kind of thought that tallies with their own imaginings
and understandings,
creative and exciting,
dull dark and desperate-like the hidden wonder of a tarnished piece of silver,;
or beautiful and harmonious like the most moving piece of music.
Okay? Love from Ann of Norway.
"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.
the_fool
Mon, 2013-01-21 03:53
a writer writing about writing
it reads as if u are heaped with inspiration and intent but have no actual goal or destination to direct it. ur will keeping u productive yet unsatisfied as u float on seeking a guiding purpose. find that epiphany and shake a tail feather. it helps control the pressing gale.
we've all written and read about writing but this one stands out. kudos
i feel 'wind' is used too often.
now and flow don't rlly rhyme.
t_f
BlueDemon77
Wed, 2013-01-23 06:52
Thanks TF!
The writer writing about writing is an irony certainly not lost on me. I guess the most relevant thing I can say is that I feel this piece most accurately reflects my own process. I certainly do control aspects of it but some of my most honest observations seem to come from a place not wholly conscious. My biggest issue isn't inspiration but rather the discipline to fully execute it. I find that I experiment on easy projects more than I force craftmanship. It's the single most difficult aspect of writing I wrestle with daily.
Thanks for the read and feedback.
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
author commentNordic cloud
Sat, 2013-02-02 10:56
Back to see this and I still
Back to see this and I still enjoyed it very much,
I like your use of the wind as the carrier of
poetry.
I actually saw the burning maze, in my mind!
Love again Ann
"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.
BlueDemon77
Sun, 2013-02-03 14:24
Thanks again Ann!
It helps so much to hear those words. Thank you Ann!
BlueDemon77
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
author commentNordic cloud
Sun, 2013-02-10 04:00
You could even develop
You could even develop another kind of poem with these to verses only,
"Where could all these black winds take me
They catch my wings and blow
Some times the sun sends secrets sweetly
at other times the razors show
-
though I steer I never fight it
the winds know what I need for now
at times sore racing thoughts ignite it
or else the stagnant breezes flow"
In the same vein, but that would be another poem,
just a thought, as this is enough to use as subject matter,
without the demons...not necessarily cutting out the
razor wind. Oh never mind this was me musing..
Love again Ann
"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.