 |
 |
 |
| |
In the Air
I used to huddle beneath a sunlight I belonged to,
one that became and lost as I did.
He was the brightness above my head,
the creator of my shadows, the releaser of my excess salts.
But love is a savage thief,
and without my essence I grew soft,
pliancy on pavement.
Now he only shines to scorch me,
firing my hair into a fantastic flame.
But I am to be doused out,
as I always am,
by my sounding screams of rain.
Vocals will break from the clouds,
cold and fluid,
birthing me a new anatomy.
I will watch the bird drown as I hold it,
a-tweet, it chokes, good-bye.
I swivel to the East, rising,
billowing out from his lone star.
All of these women will walk away,
and with them will go my city,
my home, table,
and chair.
Want to comment on this Poetry?
Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...
|
 |
|
[Back to top]
|
|
|
|
| Absolutely outstanding! This is a great bit of writing! Brava! |
|
|
I'm feeling drawn through this poem, like a pharoah through the book of the dead. So many literary references are used throughout; the Son/sun, the little sparrow held but yet it reaches out to the ultimate end.
The final play of semiotics with those evocative words descending to the essence of comfort just wrap me in warmth, like the arms of the easy chair I sink into. |
|
|
I am pissed I read this and scared, a bit, to read anymore of your works. This is the first one I analyzed, and although young, and especially naive in the sorts of poetry, this is one of the maybe... Wait. I think it maybe the only piece I cannot find an error in and break apart.
The imagery set with your words were fined tuned and the small bits of alliteration caught the piece into an ascended glow. The aestheticism you incantated with your words was simply stunning, your education and talent shows in all of it's glory here.
I don't have anything I can fix and I feel I may have failed as a young editor. But it makes me feel good to know there're are smart, quip, interesting young writers out there.
Brava miss Bratten. |
|
|
"I used to huddle beneath a sunlight I belonged to,
one that became and lost as I did."- This is one of the best first lines I've read on here, by far. It does such a great job setting up the transforming feelings toward God and nature that you reflect upon. Very nice job. |
 |
Comment by: phillmag Online- 2008-02-26 05:57
|
|
| i echo all the prior comments. i think this poem delectably tragic. i stumbled on "Vocals will.." and wonder if "Voices break..." would be cleaner.consider this sugestion lightly. |
| 1 2 3 Next |
|
 |
|
 |
|
|
