How do I holdyou
How does a
thimble
hold
the ocean
How does the
night
hold
the universe
How does a
tree
hold
the leaves
How does the
finite
hold
the infinite
I don't know
but I know
that
I don't know
and if you smile
I can live
on that
and if you open
your arms
I can
let
go
and if you can
hold me
in my silence
and speak
to me
in fingers
and lips
and arms
that hold
to hold
then
my puddle
fears
not
the rain
14 comments:
For now, sublime, gloriously, divinely, essentially sublime.
How beautiful...
How does a
thimble
hold
the ocean
This is the fear
I have
of
holding you
If you were adressing me, Trée, then I would respond that were the thimble to claim even a tiny part of the ocean, the remaining part would have to follow or never feel whole again.
If you were not speaking to me, then I would tell you the same, oh, sweet slayer of groupies!
The alternate stanza is unnecessary as the message is rather clear. However, to restate the obvious in a an obvious manner would bring more emotion to the moment if the poem is kept short. The reason it would work is that for people who find it easier to state things without stating them, to actually lay it out there takes balls. That's uberromantic. You will get lots more groupie chicks that way. ;-)
Lucila, the alternative stanza was me just thinking out loud. This poem did not achieve what I originally had in mind. Yesterday, as I was soaking in a nice long hot bath, the thimble and ocean and holding bit came to mind (I did not have paper and pen and I feared I would lose what was in my mind before I could record it), and the original poem, as conceived in the tub was just the opening two stanzas and I thought long and hard that that is all it should be that there was a certain elegance to just those first two, but, as my custom, I can never leave well enough alone and thus all the other barnacles added. So, as the poem was irritating my neurons, I posted the essence of the poem as a comment, again, addressed to no one in particular, just me grabbling with a poem I was not happy with.
The poem (I would call it such first) that you have written here in comments is as lovely, and if a stanza, the subsequent to pause as it is here lends a final touch to the whole that intensifies. A couple of spaces on the main would have had the same effect. As addendum, one might say, uncovered by the foregoing revelations.
Intoxicating is the sincerity. (Is there anything more beautiful, more welcome or touching - embracing and embraceable - than an open heart.) Humbling is the softness, the sensitivity, the simplicity enfolded within these sentiments, devastating, in the very best of ways, to equanimity, such imposing beauty.
Chi, the limitlessness of love, the bottomless well of the heart, the overwhelming capacity and force of feeling that can be as alarming as heart-warming, so overwhelming that it can be difficult imagining oneself as recipient of such sentiment, slightly off subject albeit, but your words of holding to hold, of being able to endure and bear and persist for the sustenance, of smile and arms, the love of the loved, as well as the appreciation of the infinity and independence of spirit, essence, soul, this awareness, this insight, this sensitivity will allow you to plunge and to swim in the deepest oceans. Not only when you must, but because you want to. There is some craving behind the words just written, a yearning to be as open. The beauty of your heart you show and within is mirrored the definitive potential of the individual and the universal, fundamental in matter and in loveliness, gorgeous, gorgeous piece of writing.
One question, three comments.
No witty comments I've grown accustomed to reading?
I seized the opportunity to respond with what I believed to be an equally poetic thought-- and received appreciation in glaring, red negative numbers. But "What is an artist except someone to bleed her insides onto an exhibit for all to admire or scorn-- or both." --LLuvia.
I am more than worthy to be addressed as such by any man equally worthy who has the balls to say it. But I do prefer my men single. Lighten up! ;-)
The shorter poem, incredibly gorgeous, truly can stand on its own as is. Wouldn't I know?
Alternate response: "If all you have is a 'thimble,' you should be afraid."
Hiya Tree, how have you been?
I've just came back from a trip to Japan, posting about my trip over at my side. Come over and see some snow!
A lovely poem, Tree. I like the fractal as well, nice gold color.
Now how juvenile am I that I think of Peter Pan and his offer of a thimble?
Lovely poem. I like the 'thinking out loud' stanza.
Saffy, I did. Lovely snow. :-)
Jack, always nice to see you stopping by. Thanks for the kind words. :-)
Jen, I could think out loud some more. If that would make you smile. :-)
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