In the radius of my heart, I could turn hard, I know that I think about it, and I stare like an agoraphobic, so scared, trying not to show it I try the way, wild geese flying south do, their bills clamped shut for miles in the sheer glide of open blue till they can't take it anymore. They have to call out. They have to open their big geesy mouths, to moan, to fling out a wild song, about the beauty of it all. On some days, it is all I can do, to put on my Venus shoes, to pat out my love like biscuits, to beef up the bones, of my discontent, because I make it my prerogative to pretend like all this misery may be heaven sent, Because my real pain may be, held sadly on the heart's brink, but really I think, it is just the way that everything went haywire, when you died, when you stopped breathing. I felt like I could barely catch my breath, my eyes wet, my wounds open, and all those memories kept choking, choking me like a knife. I liked being a wife! But now I am a widow, a weeper, Pain is a crazy lullaby girl, and I have to sweep her, under the rug, under the oven, under all those places that bar access, and to be more exact, I have this wild card. I have to tell you once again, that I could turn hard. I don't mean to make a big fuss, I don't usually confront things much, I have this soft, twisted rope I hold between my hope, and between my teeth, I keep wanting to meet, whatever man or woman, standing out there, that might have made it this far, without turning hard. I want to keep the peach of our love, far away from despair, and I want to tell my children, Go! Go! I want them to know, that nobody knows anything, so in the long run, have fun, go far. I have this beautiful thing, and you might call it a fool proof dream, but I plan to forgive everyone, for everything, and I plan to sing. I want to catch that song in mid air, I want it to have angel hair! I want everyone to have it, and stab it, into their hearts, try to shove it in there before the blind fear starts, before you turn bitter, I want you to remember that first glitter, of that first kiss, that first true love you had, that you don't miss, because now, somehow, you have the song and joy and trust, and yes, you do what you must, to survive but you do it right, you help everybody hold everybody tight. I want us all to be deep petaled roses that open so wide that all that optimism can climb inside. I could turn hard, but I brood and vote, not to let death kick me in the throat, I eat all the green apples and I try to write, so my life, will not mold into a substitute, or a long stuck note, like my fifth grade flute, that once only knew ,one lonely tone, that twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, little star song. But I don't wonder where you are, I know you live above the stars. I may swell up in my battle scars, but I try to stop despair with a fast smile. In the radius of my heart, I could turn hard.
Funny, but as I read this I heard Garrison Keillor reading it to me. I take that as a very good sign of the high quality. This poem is a pinnacle example of internal rhyming orchestrated like phrases in a piece of classical music. Phibby, you are a great writer.
Funny, but as I read this I heard Garrison Keillor reading it to me. I take that as a very good sign of the high quality. This poem is a pinnacle example of internal rhyming orchestrated like phrases in a piece of classical music. Phibby, you are a great writer.
In a sense, this piece is as wild as the geese--it may not be as precise as the general run of your work, but there are times where controlled and concise just needs to take a back seat; as you note (and it is as fine a line as I have ever read, bar none) "Pain is a crazy lullaby girl", and there are times where the song does not sing you to sleep but beats you into it. There is a great deal of raw emotion here, a great deal of tangible loss, and who among us can put a grade or a number on the depth of loss? What I would say, with confidence, is that what is expressed here is honest and true, in every sense--it is not cheap self-pity or tin-foil shiny woe-is-me. It is tough, honest, and expressed with an elegance that belies that toughness.
The aerodynamics of this piece are outstanding. I like the fact that it flows in and out. The structure is different and it took a bit to get used to. I like this piece very much. Quite imaginative. GREAT work!
Wow.. this is intense...and I am so happy you have not turned hard. You have so many wonderful lines in this one...it is going in my favs. One thing though...the text is teeny and was hard to read.
I can honestly say I have never read a finer line in poetry..anywhere.
this piece is laying upon my heart and soul..
Phibby,
this is gorgeous, painful and stunning..
http://youtu.be/25XE-BHGvWI
http://youtu.be/B2klgDKMUq0
I live in the mountains of Southwest Virginia. Although my passion is poetry, I recently published a novel called, Women of the Round Tabl.. more..