Portage to a dream

But for the ends of our last night’s abstract ,

the sorrowful sails bearing to port

the reasons that spark our darkened universe

wherever we meet them…

 

but for the train setting its own tribunal come dawn

the beds that go unmade

swelling within our side

unveiled corpses at bay

air and light like a miner's

deep inside our wombs

 

how slow this world is failed

how silent it will drift

statues from a lost empire

and the home-again path laid true

every weight becomes a commodity released

every moment a passerby,

 

a portage to a dream, an almost try

and the cliff that calls within

 

bodies unnourished, unfilled, untouched and dry

as we stack in the dark quiet cupboards

swirling into gray

joined from the hinges 

unspoken 

joined in last sobriety

insane

to never try these glorious anxieties again,

waiting to become another flower outside the hills

 

healing our opened scars

a taste of wine as the world drifts us by

the ships that sip their own

the small fires feathering against our lips

pounding the good earth round

like the sound of an innocent worm

screaming from the belly of a crow

Reviews

[barleygirl]

I've never read much classical poetry becuz the elevated sound of the writing feels unapproachable to this lowdown hick. This poem has the elevated sound, but it also feels approachable. I'm not fully tuned in to what this poem is about, but for me, I'm reminded of how the world & society has become a baffling behemoth that I simply don't relate to anymore . . . like a dream or a nightmare at times (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Perdition]

Oh just enter it as if you were in a Jackson Pollock painting..or the Persistence of Memory from Dali..the psyche has its hands on the reins of this world. Nothing we use or see outside of nature (and most times nature as well) has not been created by the dream and then becomes a condition of our new reality...Our Own Reality. Not relating to the behemoth is a process in itself..or not depending if you will on the "sled" to go down the hills....We get caught-up and then we get "comfortable" and there we have complacency where each ego has its mill, avoiding or delegating the pain of truth or suffering and such..,We build a world within ourselves and there builds the portage to the next..I'd like to write more on this but swore i'd take time away..Perhaps it is time to return..lol. Thanks Margie and ((Hugs as Always)) HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!

[barleygirl]

I am not a pondering person much of the time (I used to ponder, but I've gotten mentally lazy). I had to read your response slowly & carefully two times to really ponder all that you're saying here. I know you're right, especially about comfort & complacency (the root of evil that's seized the world, it would seem). I also love that you re-emphasize the "portage" concept so I could ponder it further . . . *smile*

[lightsong]

I read this in the morning, but didn't have the chance to review it until now.

I believe what it means to be drunk, what a glass of Wine truly means are lied finely there, up on Your page~ there is more between the lines, there is something bigger, a bigger truth, I kept imagining the old sailors gathering at the bar, their thirst to the Wine, same as their thirst to the Sea, that Sea, their real world where no other human than them understand, and know what it really feels to be in a different world... a world of dreams, that world which they enter by the first wind drifting the sails, same, by the first sip from their glasses. those two lines fell into my mind strongly,

"how slow this world is failed
how silent it will drift"

they hold sadness for this world which it seems it will take ages for it to "wake up" into a better one, and in this journey, how many pass by silently and forgotten... will they be remembered, how many are there, were there, and will be there... emotional and profound write for me.

[Perdition]

Well don't wait for it to wake up anytime soon Light..so chase that wind and live the future in your now...be drunk with a single breath when possible and I'll shut up now as it is not my place to tell you how to live you life in any way, shape or form...lol. Sounds to me as if you must be a Joseph Conrad fan though..or so it seems..perhaps Melville as well. Anyway...thanks again for such a wonderful review. Smiles~

[lightsong]

sorry that I haven't read them before, but just went to search about them both, I know of "Moby Dick" before now but also didn't read it, You do remember English is my second language :)

You are welcome of course, Smiles~ back at You too.

[emmajoy]

So many parts to this almost endless write.. so many avenues taken to show how it is.. how you think and feel. We need what's ever present, we need the all around, not merely what pleases us. Drifting displays truth, moored up we see and feel only sameness. Perhaps?

Some glorious phrasing, ' a taste of wine as the world drifts us by - the ships that sip their own - the small fires feathering against our lips .. '

[Perdition]

Wait a sec?..Has it been a decade already..hahaha..jk. Thank you Em and as always a pleasure...written for the wildfires..I suppose...for hats and canes and misery and daylight and confusion and most of all for the willingness to bleed out the revolting average. I know..sounds like a lot doesn't it? ...I'm worn..thud!.:) Smiles poet~

[emmajoy]

Is there a bleeding average? Still searching. :)

[Perdition]

Not part of the revolution yet? I could have sworn I saw you at the meetings ;) Thanks again.

[emmajoy]

Didn't know I could fly so far.. thought is was my imagination!