The Freedom of Morning Silence

 

I wake, half drunk, where

those first sparrows warble

into early spring. My best friend

presses ice-cool water to my lips.

She hazes the room with blue smoke

and songs, her pink lips billow

some rumba, her hand is held in mine.

 

My head and mouth sparks

in  cruel splinters of hangover,

she nurses me once again

with the learning only jail

can teach. She matured young.

In the frivolity of makeover talk,

she once reflected:

 

But I have felt this age forever

She is serene as a slow drawn cider

befriends the world 

she hasn’t yet experienced,

bows  beneath its mass. We open

the curtains to the newly blinding sun

She discusses other people's

 

trivial pains, silent about her agony.

till the freedom of early morning silence

can guide her into sorrow,

perhaps I am allowed

to hold her hand but no one else,

More than just my best friend…

she is my inspiration.

 

Reviews

[bluessadmood]

Have felt this age before..befriends the world you have not experienced
Bow beneath its mass,get into it ,feel its touch and live it
Open to a new blinding sun,emerge with people
Trivial pains ,silent agony..I am allowed to hold her hand
Be my friend and more,be my inspiration,and more
lovely write..

[Pikachu]

Ahhh friends what would we be if we didint have the friends we have today. Great write and pleasure to read

[Boris Jonathan Novak]

This was a great read. I very much enjoyed your imagery and utilization of words to convey your feelings with such strength. Great work!

[Emily B]

to have a friend that I could whisper my honest truths to . . .

to enjoy the freedom of morning silence . . .

you have a way of putting our most ardent wishes in such a warm and matter of fact way.

[Gandré]

Well, writing about trivial moments.....and making them so special...or writing about special moment and making them sounding heavenly enlightening, this you do perfectly and to me this is skills of a real poet. wonderful poem, I love it.

[fireblossom]

How the table is set with good friends. She for you and you for her. Some places in the heart of a man or a woman are sacred, where one must take off their shoes in respect of that fragile place. Only one or two are allowed to peer in there. They are always friends and they always love us dearly.

If you and I were nearby we would be friends...perhaps not on the order of the friends in this poem...one can never say, but I would open to you as far as time and circumstance allowed. I would do this because of who you are as revealed in your amazing poetry.

Technically speaking...you set this poem in the early hours before memory floods ongoing concerns down on us...the stillness of it and the peace. Well portrayed in this lovely poem.

Yours, truly, Jan

[Hillary A]

Yeah I pretty much agree with everyone below me haha
I could picture this entire thing. great work.

[W.k.kortas]

Evocative and visual and bittersweet. Very nicely done.

[Vvh]

Absolutely beautiful. Your imagery is incredible.
I particularly love the lines:
"in cruel splinters of hangover," and
"She is serene as a slow drawn cider"
In fact, the whole third stanza is stunning!
But in the second stanza, I find that "with the education a detention centre
alone can elicit" seems forced. It doesn't flow as fluidly as the rest of the poem.

I'm afraid that's all I can say, though. Seeing imagery like this is both a challenge to me and intimidating at the same time. I'm genuinely amazed.

[AK]

How is it that you can write like this?
This is so warm and moving, so honest and undefiled... so good!