poem: I Do Not Walk

I do not walk.

I stride.

into your life and theirs,

long sure steps.

do not ask me to mosey

and do not expect a curtsy.

do not tell me to make less

my footfall. let me move

with my own purpose,

not yours.

I see you North,

the origin of the chill

that frosts my heart.

I see you South,

the warmth that robs cold

of its acerbic bite.

I see you East,

rising like splendid dawn

in my new day.

I see you West,

strong at the close

of all things.

Whatever compass be

first in line, determined,

I must stride. I do so

to reprogram Before,

to give life to After,

to change Today

in myriad small pieces.

I come to break

what must be broken

for resetting rightly

and I do not walk

to my tomorrow.

I stride.

I tread careful,

but trample what I must

making wine

of sweetest grief

and nourishing mulch

of decayed remembrance,

my feet ache, finding

their tireless, their stride

one step more

each weary day.

into your life

into your grief

into your East

into your day...

and I make no apologies.

your discomfort

has always been

fear of loss, denial of

none but your own power;

the overshadow

of divine purpose

and into the glorious storm

of your All

I will stride

with long and reverant step.

Open the door,

and let me in

but do not expect me

to ever merely walk.

Reviews

[W.k.kortas]

In terms of construction, it's vrtuoso stuff--tightly drawn, the use of repetition just so, the almost legal-brief if-then-so internal structure of each stanza, with the use of the short final stanza providing both emphasis and denouement. It's not simply nice scaffolding, however; there's plenty of meat on them there bones, forceful and straight-ahead like the stride of the narrator. This is the whole package.

[Marie Anzalone]

I wanted to try to respond adequately to this perfectly executed review, but I was dumbfounded by the power of its praise. I am not sure I will ever believe my words can garner such respect. So, I will simply say, to you: thank you. from the heart of things.

[lee von cleef]

oh life is fair, why do I wallow in heavy thoughts? Let me fly. whose pen has printed the mud on my wings ? is it mine ? Let me fly, if not ,then let me love, love pure simple , yes I know that path I have seen it from above , Simple is not easy.

[Marie Anzalone]

Simple is never easy, lee. That is why we run circles complicating all of it. Love should, as you allude to, be the simplest thing in the world... as natural as breathing. Yet we complicate it with our rules, our ideas of what and how it "should" be. We cannot seem to accept the thing as it is.

[VennelaMargame]

I like to imagine what exactly is striding here. Time, the world, the sun...etc. There are a lot of mixed iambs and anapests here, which gives it that swiftness of motion. That's something that a lot of people don't think about anymore, how meter and beat affect the feel and flow, how the "ba-BUM ba-ba-BUM" skips along and how the "BUM-ba BUM-ba-ba" trips over its own feel or stalks slowly forward. But that's one of the first things I notice about a poem.

Nice writing and best wishes.

[Marie Anzalone]

Vannela, you are gem among reviewers. I do so appreciate you taking the time to read this, feel it, understand the piece and what I was trying to say with it. I do read my work aloud in my head while I write, as I feel that poetry is as much about the message as the feel of the words. I may not follow an exact scheme, but I try to imagine stops and rhythms and breaks. Very few pick up on that. Thank you for being one who does.

[VennelaMargame]

'Taint no thang. Hope to see you around.

[Corset]

hell no lets strap some muddy boots on those feet so you can weave a path through for everyone to follow, the strength of your words, the conviction of your soul are so strong in this write, no one would dare to break your stride, excellent, excellent, your poetry moves all by itself.

ps:
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Added on June 2, 2014
Last Updated on June 4, 2014

[Marie Anzalone]

I will take the challenge and the offer of muddy boots. Where, my dear trailblazing companion, are we heading today?

[Corset]

out, just out there, out ..there..where the sun shines.

[h d e rushin]

"of sweetest grief
and nourishing mulch
of decayed rememberance
my feet ache, finding their tireless,
their stride one step more
each weary day"

"Feet" still remains that swindeling metaphor, the trademark of journeys lost and thus maintained.
"Such are my themes O universal lights
most glorious" Virgil wrote. Diego spoke of the singlemindedness (perhaps) in women and I agree.
On this 25th aniversary of Tiananmen, where mostly women collage students led an uprising
for (and not about) democracy; If love poetry, and I have seen it in the marriage of theme
with the festivity of formality, is this intangible resoluteluteness, this stride into purpose,
then I did, in fact, find the right forum in 2012.

wonderful poem making, this is.

dana

[Marie Anzalone]

I love readign your reviews, dana... they are so much a window in your creative mind at work. I never know what path your words will take me down, but I always knwo it will be to a remarakbly spiritual place, where something will soothe some fire in my heart. Like a little woodland grotto on a parched day. D you not beleive that the way we walk through the world tells us much of determination and passion, moreso maybe than the clothes and shoes? As for us women, well, we have to take the lead, don;t we? Our world affairs have largely been determined by men, and a one-sided view has made quite the mess of many things. Not all, but many. I think y'all got lacrosse right. But we have a very warped concept of success and value, i think. If we do not find that balance, we will die. Literally.

[Tree]

The poet here makes no apologies. Why should she? I think we all come down here to meet like minded people, people who revere expression, and truth. F***k those who don't. I don't like those people anymore, carve out my own utopia, even if it's just me.. I was telling a friend recently, about a good poet I read not too long ago, someone who wrote a poem where the implication was that they would be ok with just love, to hell with the truth. Meaning, the poet didn't want to be weighed down by it. It wasn't important to him. I thought, damn, I like that. But how do you ignore the truth? If this poet can pull that off, why can't I? Thing is, I see others do it. They can so easily separate the two, compartmentalize and store it away, hide the darkness in little rooms never to be revealed again. How do you do that? The other thing, and maybe it's because your tender poem of determination triggered something in me, is perseverance. One of the most important, yet underrated human characteristics a human being can own, and why is it that women have it in spades? where men, not that we give up, but we're a lot better about forgetting... When I think about perseverance, I almost always think about the singlemindedness of a woman. I think of my mother, my grandmother, the tigress in the forest. The earth.

A very important poem, Marie.

[Marie Anzalone]

I always so apprecaite your thoughtful and thought-provoking reviews, Diego. More than one of your reviews has triggered a flurry of writing after thinking of your own words. You and I have discussed these themes before, and I think they are even mor eimportant now. It is very easy to live a spiritual and "centered" and "balanced" life when you surround yourself with happy people, people who agree with you, happy thoughts, and banish all perceived "negativity" from your life. In fact, many peopel advise doing just that. Cut away that which makes you uncomfortable. Myself, I believe that the centeredness and love these people profess to feel is about as genuine and stable as a desert mirage. I have no use for untested faith, the inauthentic, or the delusional. Give me substance, give me that which cannot be resolved. Give me a real problem to solve. Like anyone else, I need to find refuge sometimes... refuge in a beautiful space, or on someone's words or visions. But I take to refuge as a place to elarn and regroup, not as a place to live out an untruth. Maybe I am too harsh on New Agers? Maybe they too are needed to remind us of what our potential is? But then, i like to think that the front line scientist treating the epidemic at great personal risk is also showing us the courage of which we are all capable. I find that most people who self-appoint as being "sensitive" are really closet narcissists looking for "special" treatment. The truly senstive face things head-on, and break down and ask for help as needed. But they get back up and go back out there. Every damned day they can.

[Emily B]

Ad always, dear sister, your words describe my heart too

[Marie Anzalone]

I figured this one might resonate with you, dear friend. :-) as always, you KNOW

[Madalyn Beck]

This is a really clever write. The first and last verses are my favorites. The imagery here is very good! Keep it up! :)

[Marie Anzalone]

thank you, Madalyn, for your kind review.