I want the heftof hammer
in hand
I want that sensual
pull
of weight thrown
and weight lassoed
down
I have no fence
to mend
Nothing utilitarian
for my laboring
chaps
But I want the dance
of silver metal
smacking
silver metal
of sweat off
the tip
of my nose
The rhythm
of
heave
rising
slow
of
haul
falling
hard
with prejudice
hammering
as art
hammering
as dance
hammering
to get lost
hammering
to
know
you
17 comments:
Artfully achieved. I wish I could say more. I wish I could write more. I'm jealous of your freedom. =)
Perhaps ignorance (mine) is a good thing. I don't know squat about poetry. I just breath the moment from within to without. And try to remember to brush my teeth before I do. :-D
Ha, ha! I actually believe you on all of those counts, but you are a very quick learner, and you were already a solid writer. And I think you just have a plain, old natural gift. ;-)
Careful. Your comments are on the edge of groupiedom. ;-)
Interesting use of italics...not sure what to make of that. Love the poem though.
Italics, for me, is speed, is a race car speeding, is movement quick, and so, the hammer falls. FAST. HARD. BAM!
:-D
I feel like a kid with words for paint and the blog is my canvas. ;-)
I believe you just wrote another poem, or even two...
Groupiedom, eh? I was being honest, didn't realize it would go to your head. ;-) If it makes you feel better, I am announcing right here, right now that you are a poet...but you have nothing on me. At least not yet. And I am being honest. I know the abc's of poetry. Is that better? =)
My ink flows freely. Come rub your hands in my literary blood, dance the dance of natives with hawaiian hips, of eyes as quarter moons. :-)
No ego here. Quite the opposite if you must know. Comments are my daily bread and water. I couldn't, wouldn't write without them. So, for that, I thank you.
Oh, sir, I'm merely lavishing more praise upon your work by reminding you that the comments are from someone who knows excellence when I read it, lol. I understand and fully appreciate any and all comments you have on my work as well. It is uplifting. Thank you, :-)
I receive your communion with bowed head and humble hands. Bless you child, for it is I who have sinned. And I would be remiss not to tell you, I plan to sin again. ;-)
I've got some power tools for you...
Well then, prepare the bridal suite and secure the leggings, warn the neighbors and sequester the cat. Fireworks are free tonight! :-D
Long before you began writing poetry, you were a poet, and with each poem that you write, you hone your skill of this genre. Walking the path without a map, discovering, devising, unearthing, just as you did with prose, and fractals, and it is frankly both stunning and moving to watch, to see such natural talent come into light, to see the ease with which you move. Limitless is the word that comes to mind as it always does when one thinks of these many pages here at DT, creative genius. In my mind's eye I see you as a sculptor, the block of language in front of you, a vision inside of you, and by the miracle of creation, expression, of art, and heart, stone becomes form real as flesh, word becomes sentiment real as life. Techniques need no names here, there is only result, completion. Divine. Perfect. Complete. The way that you have used spacing, pace, grouping, is thrilling. Impressive and stirring, excellent poem.
I hammered the nails into the deck today (deeper) to protect my children's bare feet. Today. It really was quite nice to make noise, and spend some aggression and to protect those precious feet. I guess I was poetry in motion for just a few minutes :)
Jen, to my eye, you are always poetry in motion.
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