Thursday, December 30, 2004

The Poetess & Her Story

Before the end
Began
The story was over
It died
A premature death
In the hands
Of the prophesizing poetess
Whose craft was faulty
The story she told
Was not the story
She felt
And the story she felt
Was not the story
She wanted to tell
In her paradox
She muffled her emotions
And the end began
Before it was supposed to
And because that happened
Her characters
Came to life
And lived in the world
They were not supposed to
And the end was over
Before they
Could return
To the craft
Of the prophesizing poetess
And the poetess
Gave them emotions
That they weren’t supposed
To feel
And things happened
That weren’t supposed
To happen
And in the end
That followed consequently
The poetess
Had to taste
A bitter blood
Mingled with
Her poisonous sweat
And as her imagination died
Her inspiration
Deserted her
Leaving her alone
And lonely
As she was before poetry


14 comments:

livinghigh said...

there have been so many times when I'm walking down the road and an idea grips me and I decide to write something about it - but then, I never do - for a variety of reasons, let's not even get into all dat... love ure post, it's a reminder to carry along chits of paper with me and scribble down every idea i ever have/had/will have. ;-)

Anil said...

Hmm...quite interesting..you have nicely captured the frustration behind putting down what you feel into words and then seeing that the words cannot even convey half what you feel or felt or even worse tell a totally different thing from what you set out to do.

:..M..: said...

Wonderful. I like the way you make one read it without a halt and bring the whole poem to a full circle. Esp like the last sentence.
Looks like the end is a futile struggle.

Diane said...

Beautiful, as always, A.

Many congratulations on your BOB nomination!

Jessica said...

"The story she told
Was not the story
She felt
And the story she felt
Was not the story
She wanted to tell"

It's like you crawled inside my chest and tugged out my secret....absolutely beautiful piece.

Ubermensch said...

nice weave;...wasnt aware of the nomination, got to know by the icon there, great going...my wishes for you to win it.

. : A : . said...

livinghigh - Yes, I know exactly how that feels. I have 'lost' so many pieces just because I did not have paper or a computer within reach.

Anil - Like your interpretation.

:..M..: - Most things do come to a full cirle, don't they?

Diva Drip - Thanks for the comment and the wishes.

Jessica - Glad you could relate. :-)

ubermensch - Thanks. Voting starts on New Years Day! ;-)

Anonymous said...

Great work....very well constructed

The Hissing Saint

http://thehissingsaint.journalspace.com

:..M..: said...

Not necessarily. Somethings are better left undone. Full circles are in our minds. Things and people are too complicated to let anything do a complete circle. I suppose, full cycles are more like it. Stuck in the loop. Differ?

illuzian said...

Its good to see a Blog of worth, something written from the heart. Keep it flowing.

Jessica said...

HAPPY NEW YEAR .:A:.!

. : A : . said...

The Hissing Saint, The Illusion - Thanks for dropping by and for your comments. Look forward to having you back.

:..M..: - Differ and agree at the same time, if that is possible! Both, points of view are 'sometimes' and not 'all the time'. I think both are relevant.

Queen Mo, Jessica - Happy new year!

iamnasra said...

You know me by now once in while I go back and reread what I have must have missed

Before the end
Began
The story was over
It died
A premature death
In the hands
Of the prophesizing poetess
Whose craft was faulty
The story she told
Was not the story
She felt
And the story she felt
Was not the story
She wanted to tell
In her paradox
She muffled her emotions
And the end began
Before it was supposed to
And because that happened
Her characters
Came to life
And lived in the world
They were not supposed to
And the end was over
Before they
Could return
To the craft
Of the prophesizing poetess
And the poetess
Gave them emotions
That they weren’t supposed
To feel
And things happened
That weren’t supposed
To happen
And in the end
That followed consequently
The poetess
Had to taste
A bitter blood
Mingled with
Her poisonous sweat
And as her imagination died
Her inspiration
Deserted her
Leaving her alone
And lonely
As she was before poetry

Loved it so much

. : A : . said...

iamnasra - Thanks.