I feel you are striking into new territory... A new panel of metaphors and design... A change of seasons in this onset of winter and his aftermath...
Anyway, I felt frigid, standing in the skeletal remains of a forest built from sad memories that can't be changed, even in dreams... he, is gone... and what remains of she, is broken, yet embryonic... My visions from this portrait of loss that you have so vividly drawn...
Our very thoughts are a sign of where we were, where we are, and where we are going...
Life is full of such surety if we only observe... The naked limbs, the dusting of snow, the wind in all its qualities sings, sighs, whispers and howls the truth of it all.
Then there are times when life sends you such poetic inspiration the sign is laid out in lines and stanzas...
Reflective and melancholy. Still, I feel a strirring of hope, of confidence.
"like a child, I cannot force the letters to commit
they will not become something they never were
no matter how many ways I rearrange them"
-- I really love those lines. And metaphors, structure, the vividness of the scene and the message. ;)
-olive.
such a stark dirge...it's not easy to convey vivid sensation in muted tones, but you did just that here. I can identify with the longing and the forlorn spirit here...there's also an obvious helplessness...to me, i think of how it feels to master something, albeit briefly, and then completely lose control - as if said mastery was nothing but an illusion. well done. i've missed your words.
Loved the conveyed written imagery here. The depth of your diction is what really keeps me wanting more after reading this particular write. Great work Girl Friday. A captivating composed write. :)
A new type and style from you but none the less a piece that is written with pure emotion. You speak from the heart and your sadness is projected well. The heart aches Sarah and in turn speaks volumes to us to help us grow.
This has your usual fine imagery enhancing a poem full of angst, seemingly born of always knowing your mutual passion was flawed by doubt. Paradoxically, the poem is a great success, Sarah. P.
"She's mad but she's magic. There's no lie in her fire." - Charles Bukowski
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