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Low
Patches of blue, and patches of cloud
and lots of birds – the crows are loud;
there's sun on your face and light in your hair
and a smile in your eyes as you breathe in the air
ascending the ridge.
Up and away to the bare, pointed peak
to the sense of real freedom, the joy that you seek -
You look just the way you're dear to me
and you pant from the climb and I glad I can see
you're enraptured.
Still, in my mind you're there across the room
examining your hands. They're old, you say,
the veins, the texture – but that is not the point.
What matters is that we have not been young
together yet, since you will not believe
you're more than beautiful to me and so
you never gave me any chance to break
through your defences. Is it that I am
not worth the try, not good enough to let
those barriers down? You say you're getting old.
Well, so am I. So what? Your eyes, that smile
will hurt, the more so since we never try
to chase away the sense of pressing time,
too finite, too uncaring, closing in...
The sun retreats. Before grey sky
squalls of pale rain come hurrying by.
Your face gets drawn, mood black as ink,
the rapture's gone and my heart sinks –
Drear cold's on my back
and there's clouds descending
from Cribyn.
- COMMENTS
DawnJover 11 years agoFrom the high of a beautiful day to the low of night, from the high of remembered joy to the low of her black mood, you've made us see and feel the emotions that take us from the opening high of the poem to the crashing low of its end! I like the form, as well.
Ashesh9over 11 years agoI'm sorry i'm too ignorant to differentiate between buried & unburied sonnets but this poem is an amalgam between Nature & interaction between Human emotions which as a Human lover/student i highly appreciated ! Very good & keep it up , please .
tazz317over 11 years agowhy would you have attachments for her, TK U MLJ LV NV
buttersover 11 years agodemure, not desejo
reading you both i confused the names. it won't happen again. x
buttersover 11 years agobloody hell, 12er, i totally missed that about the buried sonnet (embarrasses), my only excuse being i was so tied up in the opening that ... scratch that, there's no excuse. apologies, desejo :flower: ooh, perhaps it's a good thing i missed your sonneteering, so adeptly hid amongst the words as to render it 'invisible'? damn, not very good at politics, am i? :p
twelveooneover 11 years agoas far as framing, and not what anyone would expect, buried free verse sonnet? not bad
the usual complaint about dead language
mood black as ink
my heart sinks
there is a slight echo effect
ridge, enraptured, Cribyn
that for future reference could have been developed further
need you ask the score, you are a real wonder
buttersover 11 years agothere's a real sense of love in the opening two strophes, a lightness buoyed by the almost sing-song quality of the rhyming and tonal work running through. the middle section was a big enough departure from the opening to distract me, to give me pause for thought ... i wondered if this departure from what you set us up for was as deliberate as song-writers who introduce that change of pace somewheres around the middle of a song as something they are encouraged to do, or if it was to say 'hang on, enough of the go brightlies, stop here and think about this part, it's intended to reflect the sort of mood changes seen in (perhaps) early alzheimers'. maybe it's just an age-gap thing, one person closing out the other for whatever reason.... the breaking through only to be shut out again, it's sad and frustrating.
whatever the intention, i found it a distracting break but one worth thinking about. not sure i've understood your intentions, but the switch of moods, the light-play underlining this to good effect, made this an interesting read for me. thankyou :)
