Bangkok

[lallison]

I have loved her,
cleaved from the rice fields and now sprawling endlessly,
a muddy river flowing through her belly,
now tinged with red.

I have been held by her well into the morning,
dreamed of nothing else but her decaying breath,
and the flower markets bustling through the night
on the verge of closing.

I have spent endless hours wandering the alleys,
discovering her exotic secrets,
and I have felt inside her a tangible suffering,
the wasting lives, and the coming violence.

But this is a land of free people
who will not listen to dictation.
And if she must paint herself once more
then let her color be red

just as a single staff colored the Nile.
A single crimson bead now rests on my fingertip
as dusk refracts towering silhouettes against a fiery horizon,
and a ruby net trolls through the Andamon sea.

She is no stranger to storm.
When lightning cracks her sky, it shatters the towers,
the monsoons tumble and rise in the streets,
and the city trembles, alive.

In such a place, one must not acknowledge fear
or tears to regret the lives that could be,
once lost, lost forever, but the vibrancy of a golden dream
dances with bats along the canal tunnels.

Awash against her flooded riverbanks, what little hope can we have
when backs are bent and bodies graying in the streets?
Only that quiet red light lifting over the city at dawn, the fleeting knowledge
that we have tried and lived our lives as they should be.

And when finally that day should come
let her sit and dictate my color to me
and she must know from where comes the crimson bead on my finger,
and see how I have crushed it against my cheek.

[hillwalker]

I feel privileged to be the first to read this brilliant poem after posting.

You have a painter's skill in depicting a place, not just by the use of colour and metaphor but also the smells and textures and ambience. And you do it wonderfully well in this poem.

This is a poem to return to time and time again for another exotic fix.....

You can probably tell I quite liked it.

[Hawkman]

I really love this poem. You paint such a vivid picture and your empathy and appreciation for and of the subject permeates every line.

"When lightning cracks her sky, it shutters the towers..."

Shutters is an odd word to use here though, is it a typo and should it be shudders or shatters?

Anyway, stunning poem lall, thanks for sharing. H

[PrinceMyshkin]

As gripped as I was by the drama between the shorter lines that begin or end many of these stanzas, vs the longer, fluent lines of the body of each stanza, I was scared [obscenity] that you might not be able to end this on that high, tragic note, but you did and better, if that were possible, than I thought you would.

Notwithstanding the prohibition against getting into print with material that is currently on-line, you really ought to think about submitting the best of these either to a print journal or a publisher of books of poetry.

[lallison]

Hill,

I feel privileged to be the first to read this brilliant poem after posting.

Thanks, but it is I who am privileged to receive your comments. Glad you enjoyed it.

Hawk, Thanks for the comments and the idea to change shudder to shatter. I agree and for now i will use your word, if that's ok with you.

PM, thanks for your high praise. It always means a lot to me.

Notwithstanding the prohibition against getting into print with material that is currently on-line, you really ought to think about submitting the best of these either to a print journal or a publisher of books of poetry.

this is something that really concerns me. i am starting to look into publications (when I have time between finishing up my work here and preparing to summer in the US and then move to Manila). Is it true that publishers do not want anyone to submit work that has previously been shared on line? Even on a literature forum like this one? To me, that seems a bit silly. i would hardly consider poems shared here for comment to be previously "published". Are they really that picky?

As far as this poem goes, I'm wondering if the political connotations are apparent, regarding the current unrest that Bangkok has been facing. That is what inspired me to write this, but I don't know what sort of coverage its gotten in other parts of the world. I guess the poem works without knowledge of that allusion, but it's a major part of what I was trying to do here.

[Lumiere]

Holy AMAZING POEM!

Kind of makes me want to steer clear of pens for a while. (This is complimentary.)

The final image is hauntingly beautiful.

[MorpheusSandman]

This is one of those poems to be drunk in slowly like fine wine. One that really treats the reader to an overwhelming sensuousness - the images, the implied sounds and smells. It's so incredibly immersive that even in its relative brevity it really creates its own little universe to dwell in. Really, really impressive work, lallison.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Hill,
this is something that really concerns me. i am starting to look into publications (when I have time between finishing up my work here and preparing to summer in the US and then move to Manila). Is it true that publishers do not want anyone to submit work that has previously been shared on line? Even on a literature forum like this one? To me, that seems a bit silly. i would hardly consider poems shared here for comment to be previously "published". Are they really that picky?

I too am concerned about that alleged prohibition. I have no certain confirmation of it. If it is true, however, you could comply with it by deleting the posted material - but that might also require you to contact those who quoted it in their response & ask them to delete the quote.

Best of luck, and I hope you'll inform us if/when you've placed it/them in a journal or with a publisher.

[Pendragon]

Darned good, says a lot, and says it beautifully!

[lallison]

Lumier, thanks, I've read some of your writing. Don't steer clear of pens. You would be depriving us.

PM, good idea. i guess its better safe than sorry. If I ever get any of these into a decent publication, you will be the first to know! but until that time comes, they will just be posted here for your pleasure.

Pendragon, thanks for reading and commenting.

As always, it is appreciated.

[Bar22do]

I have loved her,
cleaved from the rice fields and now sprawling endlessly,
a muddy river flowing through her belly,
now tinged with red.

I have been held by her well into the morning,
dreamed of nothing else but her decaying breath,
and the flower markets bustling through the night
on the verge of closing.

I have spent endless hours wandering the alleys,
discovering her exotic secrets,
and I have felt inside her a tangible suffering,
the wasting lives, and the coming violence.

But this is a land of free people
who will not listen to dictation.
And if she must paint herself once more
then let her color be red

just as a single staff colored the Nile.
A single crimson bead now rests on my fingertip
as dusk refracts towering silhouettes against a fiery horizon,
and a ruby net trolls through the Andamon sea.

She is no stranger to storm.
When lightning cracks her sky, it shatters the towers,
the monsoons tumble and rise in the streets,
and the city trembles, alive.

In such a place, one must not acknowledge fear
or tears to regret the lives that could be,
once lost, lost forever, but the vibrancy of a golden dream
dances with bats along the canal tunnels.

Awash against her flooded riverbanks, what little hope can we have
when backs are bent and bodies graying in the streets?
Only that quiet red light lifting over the city at dawn, the fleeting knowledge
that we have tried and lived our lives as they should be.

And when finally that day should come
let her sit and dictate my color to me
and she must know from where comes the crimson bead on my finger,
and see how I have crushed it against my cheek.

These days I'm always late (life complexity) but with what pleasure did I read and re-read your poignant beautiful compassionate poem! Thanks so much. Its (the poem's, your) sensitivity is amazing, the imagery both vivid and so delicate... a feast for the senses, huge matter for reflection, you're such an artist: a painter, a musician, a dancer-with-words...
And yes, you should really really envisage publication...

Wherever you're leaving for, it will be a privilege for the place to host you... warmest regards, lallison - Bar

[qimissung]

A beautiful metaphor, and such rich, gorgeous language! I certainly thought I caught a whiff of the unrest you allude too; it is that which gives this poem its tragic air. And yes, when you post something her it is considered published, and publishers will want to know. Full disclosure and all that. Good luck.

[_Shannon_]

This is so, so phenomenal...thank for giving me something which I feel better for having read.

[lallison]

Bar,Thanks. I'm glad you got here in time to read this and thanks for the encouragement.

qimissung, thanks for chiming in and the info about publishing. That little rule is kind of a biter. i really enjoy getting the feedback about my writing that I get on here. Maybe I'll try using a different format like posting a link like milktea does. That seems like a good idea, and it gives one more control over the writing.

Shannon, praise is always gladly accepted. thanks!

lal

[milktea]

Your writing is beautiful, lallison. I've never been to Bangkok, but this stanza:

She is no stranger to storm.
When lightning cracks her sky, it shatters the towers,
the monsoons tumble and rise in the streets,
and the city trembles, alive.

Reminds me of when I spent the rainy season in Vietnam. And this is exactly what the land felt like during the sudden storms. Your poem has a sincere voice, and that appeals to me very much. Thank you for sharing.