fiction, poems and other general flirtatious happenings
Sunday, March 08, 2009
September Sky
I sit
mind blank
as a September
sky
I can see
for miles
and miles
the clean lines
of horizons
Nary a sparrow
but you see
not
what I see
I'm standing right here
flesh and blood
a beating heart
so
turn the fucking
cell
phone
off
11 comments:
Anonymous
said...
Trée, it's good. I like it for several reasons. Here is the critique: I was reading, felt peaceful, almost giddy, and then, to quote you, "BAM!" I'm sad to read it now. I don't comment often on the pictures, but I fell instantly in love with this one. The color is one I could stare at for a very long time, and there are so many curves within curves. The smaller circles look like ping pong balls traveling around inside a tube, lol. Where is Ms Storm today? I miss her critiques even if she is gone only a day.
If you don't know, you can click on the image to see the larger version. I have another very similar to this one (better) that I'm rendering as we type. Stay tuned. :-)
That darned near knocked the breath right out of me. Fan*tastic piece of writing! Without delay, the title triggered association, the end of summer (by cause of the song Sealed with a Kiss which began to play in my mind as I read it), bonfires on the beach, sand stretching left and right, ocean ahead, the rest of the world, unseen, unheard behind, the conjured images fanned (in some measure) by the beginning lines of the poem. Still. In the quiet sense. Yet, and since the poem is relatively quickly read it the thought doesn't have time to establish itself before one might judge it to be hindsight, still it was like the calm before a storm. Perhaps it is pure afterthought. But even so, the reference to September when combined with blank suggests this isn't quite as easy as it seems at first. The way that this is set out is superb, inspired. Surprising, to encompass with just one word, in all the very best senses, startling, remarkable and amazing. For the words written here, here in comment that is, they cover less than a percentage of the esteem in which this poem was immediately held. Masterful, extraordinary, brilliant.
Ms Storm you are very kind and I thank you for your kindness. This poem, like almost all that I write, starts in one direction and in the writing, as a river, takes its own course. There was no snapshot of this poem as a whole or even in pieces as I started to write. Again, there was just a singular thought--my blank mind mimicking a clear day--mind and sky. And, the desire to have that experience, to have a clear mind again, a longing for the sea to quiet, the storm to pass, the clouds to part and to just be again. This poem is a longing, a need, a desire; and sadly, an unfulfilled reality.
Hello Ms Storm, I think you got it right with the "one word" comment. Where I live, September means the end of terrible, smothering heat, and the first of autumn's breezy kisses. Because you are correct, the poem doesn't travel far before the mood is completely disrupted. :-)
Amazingly, it still surprises me each time that I read it, as though this time it might be something different. September. Right now I am glad that September seems so far away, though autumn is my favourite season, winter is just fading here and the freshness of Spring and the heat of a (hopefully) long Summer is something I am very much looking forward to. Happy day to you, Lucila. :-)
Ms Storm, Your comments made me consider that the early autumn breezes could also foreshadow the hurricane season...bam...another reason to hang on to summer. Or the calm before the storm. Though the waves have been occasionally rough around my ship, I seem to be weathering the storm, and I've even felt the familiar embrace of Spring the last couple of days. Thank you, Ms Storm, I wish you well. I'm happy to write with you.
11 comments:
Trée, it's good. I like it for several reasons. Here is the critique: I was reading, felt peaceful, almost giddy, and then, to quote you, "BAM!" I'm sad to read it now. I don't comment often on the pictures, but I fell instantly in love with this one. The color is one I could stare at for a very long time, and there are so many curves within curves. The smaller circles look like ping pong balls traveling around inside a tube, lol. Where is Ms Storm today? I miss her critiques even if she is gone only a day.
If you don't know, you can click on the image to see the larger version. I have another very similar to this one (better) that I'm rendering as we type. Stay tuned. :-)
No, I did not know that, but I'm glad you told me so I can see all the other stuff, too. Is it against your copyright if I save it as my desktop?
Feel free to download any of the images for your own personal use. I'm flattered. :-)
What will flattery get me?
A lot! Believe me, I eat flattery like a baby eats candy. :-D
That darned near knocked the breath right out of me. Fan*tastic piece of writing!
Without delay, the title triggered association, the end of summer (by cause of the song Sealed with a Kiss which began to play in my mind as I read it), bonfires on the beach, sand stretching left and right, ocean ahead, the rest of the world, unseen, unheard behind, the conjured images fanned (in some measure) by the beginning lines of the poem. Still. In the quiet sense. Yet, and since the poem is relatively quickly read it the thought doesn't have time to establish itself before one might judge it to be hindsight, still it was like the calm before a storm. Perhaps it is pure afterthought. But even so, the reference to September when combined with blank suggests this isn't quite as easy as it seems at first. The way that this is set out is superb, inspired. Surprising, to encompass with just one word, in all the very best senses, startling, remarkable and amazing. For the words written here, here in comment that is, they cover less than a percentage of the esteem in which this poem was immediately held. Masterful, extraordinary, brilliant.
Ms Storm you are very kind and I thank you for your kindness. This poem, like almost all that I write, starts in one direction and in the writing, as a river, takes its own course. There was no snapshot of this poem as a whole or even in pieces as I started to write. Again, there was just a singular thought--my blank mind mimicking a clear day--mind and sky. And, the desire to have that experience, to have a clear mind again, a longing for the sea to quiet, the storm to pass, the clouds to part and to just be again. This poem is a longing, a need, a desire; and sadly, an unfulfilled reality.
Hello Ms Storm, I think you got it right with the "one word" comment. Where I live, September means the end of terrible, smothering heat, and the first of autumn's breezy kisses. Because you are correct, the poem doesn't travel far before the mood is completely disrupted. :-)
Amazingly, it still surprises me each time that I read it, as though this time it might be something different. September. Right now I am glad that September seems so far away, though autumn is my favourite season, winter is just fading here and the freshness of Spring and the heat of a (hopefully) long Summer is something I am very much looking forward to. Happy day to you, Lucila. :-)
Ms Storm, Your comments made me consider that the early autumn breezes could also foreshadow the hurricane season...bam...another reason to hang on to summer. Or the calm before the storm. Though the waves have been occasionally rough around my ship, I seem to be weathering the storm, and I've even felt the familiar embrace of Spring the last couple of days. Thank you, Ms Storm, I wish you well. I'm happy to write with you.
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