If I could lose this loss
By stealth or wealth or any way...
If raging, sounding winds could toss
At end of day,
This heavy void as if there were no cost,
Then I would count none lost.
But there is so much more to this:
I, miser, clutch at my pathos;
Abandoned bliss
Becomes the Desert That I Cannot Cross.
In Valley I am lost;
The blowing sands obscure my view.
The hole I hoard becomes my cross --
My crucifix.
I worship now the sorrow that was you.
This form poem was suggested by a Dante Gabriel Rossetti poem and encouraged by Imaginary Gardens for Real Toads on December 1. I've been wandering through this particular desert for a week or so. Better late than never...I think!
Definitely. I particularly like the first six lines, but the more I'm reading the stronger and more natural the whole is becoming. Train of thought strong too. And that's not an easy form.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Joanne. The form dictates the breath, which dictates the sense. Does that make sense? ;-)
Deletenice flow to this, outstanding picture
ReplyDeleteThank you. I don't believe we've met. I'll stop by your place soon.
DeleteThe feelings reflect the desert--you have a desert both outside yourself and inside, yet the inner one is the hardest to deal with.
ReplyDeleteLovely expression.
Yes. The deserts of our own making are the most arid.
DeleteFantastic, irreligious, rebellious and honest. Spits at idealism and says "no, this is what I am."
ReplyDeleteWell, that was my impression
Merci, Monsieur. Not irreligious but irreverent. Honest...to a fault. C'est moi. :-)
Delete" Abandoned bliss
ReplyDeleteBecomes the Desert That I Cannot Cross. "
Wow, this is a stark image which says so much...your entire poem really speaks to the picture you chose!
beautiful Karen, I feel the pain in my own heart reading this.
ReplyDeleteYou are a beautiful empathetic soul, Laura. Hugs.
DeleteYes, some of these deserts they're impassable. Written so well.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Hannah.
DeleteThis is a spectacularly poignant write about sorrow. One feels the scope and breadth of it. Especially powerful "Abandoned bliss becomes the Desert I Cannot Cross" and " I worship now the sorrow that was you." This captures grief so well - how one holds onto the pain so as to keep the loved one close longer. Very beautiful writing, and the photo is wonderful too.
ReplyDeleteYou have pointed to the heart of sorrow, Sherry. Holding on so as to not let go...
DeleteLooked at some of your other posts too...I like the way your are revealing yourself here (one poem at a time). Sort of like a poetic game of strip poker?
ReplyDeleteOh, no! What happens when we get to the "reveal"? Thanks for looking around, Timoteo. I'll stop by your place soon.
DeleteA fabulous use of enjambment makes this all the moe powerful. The rhymes add a layer of interest. You allow your reader to feel the inability to release that which is not serving, despite an awareness of the situation.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your careful and thoughtful reading, Kim.
DeleteThis flows beautifully!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Mama!
DeleteGreat flow and beautiful picture
ReplyDeleteThank you, Kimolisa!
DeleteBeautiful desert and I know how inspiring the desert can be. Fantastic emotion and painting of soul searching and finding things in their just places on top and bottom of the world. Great Writing
ReplyDeleteWe all have our deserts, no? Thanks for stopping by, Heretomost.
DeleteAbandoned bliss Becomes the Desert That I Cannot Cross...powerful line..this is full of emotion...lovely piece.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Susie. I admire your work a great deal, so I appreciate your words.
DeleteI'm sorry you feel this Karen.
ReplyDeleteHugs, Mark!
DeleteWishing you a happy birthday in ADVANCE! I thought that would be the prudent thing to do.
ReplyDelete