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Thread: The watery star of Edinburgh

  1. #1
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    The watery star of Edinburgh

    He had been just a boy
    when he fell head over heels
    for his pain and his wounds
    that just wouldn’t heal
    There was no gain
    in sorrow
    he needn’t be told
    yet from pain
    he could borrow
    what he’d only
    been told

    About
    when he was five
    he would sit in the fields
    hardly alive, quiet, concealed
    and
    screaming
    while seeming
    like any a kid
    lost
    amid
    the fields
    that peeled
    his eyes open

    Wide
    were the fields
    and he was alone
    sometimes he’d feel
    as if others were there
    he’d catch the glimpse
    of a smile
    feel the brush
    of a hair
    because it was too much
    for one child
    to bear
    he couldn’t declare
    himself
    the sole being
    on earth
    everywhere
    He saw the only way out
    that a child could conceive
    he cried
    and cried out
    all pain
    and all grief
    He stopped the noises
    halfway through the air
    for all of a sudden
    he found himself able to care

    Too much
    did he cry and too much
    did he cringe
    the boy grew addicted
    to turning his flinch
    into salty
    pure liquid
    So cold
    and so drained did his body become
    for all tears had left him
    with no more to come
    When he had to face
    the void
    that he had thought drowned
    he doubled right over
    knocked straight to the ground
    He wanted to run
    but he had no more strength
    so as he laid
    destroyed
    he knew that his end
    had now begun
    so he decided to do
    what had to be done:
    He ripped his chest open
    to return his heart
    to the sun

    The furnace of life
    took one beating heart
    and spat it out
    as one stone, so hard
    that under its pressure
    the tears came apart:
    they split and re-joined
    they rose up and they sunk
    they grew bigger
    than the little shrunk
    boy’d ever be
    and with pin-point precision
    and vigorous rigor
    they thawed together
    into one flowing mixture:

    the sea
    The stone in the sky
    was the “moon”
    said the boy
    who grew into a man
    now that his toy
    had the span
    of his pain
    in its veins

    All his tears in the ocean
    all his heart in the moon
    devoid of emotion
    in his skin-tight cocoon
    he stepped to the quay
    to move nevermore
    for now there was she
    by whom he was adored
    her head far above
    her arms and her bosom the sea
    her whole reason for being
    was to give him the hug
    that would never be
    His wife
    and his lover
    his mother
    was
    me

    So I summoned my strength
    to raise up my arms
    to his face so close to the rim
    but missed by the length
    of a hair
    that just wouldn’t learn how to swim
    He stood still
    upright
    and full of hope
    but as I missed
    and missed
    and missed
    and missed
    and missed
    I couldn’t cope
    I had failed him so badly
    my face pressed to my hands
    I sobbed
    that
    I was so sorry
    and
    shouldn’t exist
    that
    he should be kissed
    and that
    I would persist
    and that
    he shouldn’t worry
    but
    he knew
    and I knew
    while he stood in the rain
    that his pain would continue
    no matter how often
    I would try again
    And again
    he could have acted
    but he closed his eyes
    he wanted salvation
    without paying a prize

    So he stood
    and he waited
    as I followed his calling
    so he would be sated
    With days passing by
    then weeks and then months
    I had only his faith to guide me
    and it felt like a punch
    that his faith never wavered
    he was certain I’d make him fly
    even though it was I
    that was salt-tear flavoured


    His creation
    his angel
    messiah
    salvation
    his star-constellation
    was me

    I couldn’t let him down
    I’d stack all my waves
    I’d bundle my currents
    I rushed up in a torrent
    as high as a tower
    adding floor after floor
    with all of my power
    piercing cloud after cloud
    screaming determined
    bubbling froth at my gown
    when at last I poured down
    at the man
    by the shore
    whom
    I still adore
    my arms stretched out wide
    in a desperate roar
    I want to embrace him
    just like I swore
    I failed
    more often
    than all the days you’ll ever see
    Yet he’s standing
    limp
    and cold
    so
    patiently
    looking up and down
    his
    memory

    A single
    finger outstretched to his cheek
    I want to touch him
    but I am too weak
    for really I’m him
    and he doesn’t skim
    even his own
    destiny

    Although I hide every month
    I have begun to wonder
    why he doesn’t move
    not in sunshine
    nor thunder
    Not a stretch, not a step
    towards me
    If you’ve been caught in a web
    that wouldn’t let you go free
    then you know
    that with
    years, nay decades, nay eras
    comes wisdom
    and the further you step back
    the more you see
    the system



    The little boy who cried me
    out of his eyes
    to be loved at the very least
    by his own demise
    doesn’t come towards me
    neither in day nor in night
    for he fears the wake
    which is
    that my touch
    just
    would be too much
    for him
    to take
    He keeps me waiting
    with his “Darling”s and “Dear”s
    because he never learned
    to swim in his own ocean of tears

    Inspired by a stone statue on a bridge that leads to the sea in Edinburgh. Thoughts and comments are much appreciated

  2. #2
    Registered User prendrelemick's Avatar
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    Wow, I think I need to read this again.
    ay up

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    I'll take that as a compliment

  4. #4
    Registered User prendrelemick's Avatar
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    I like the form of it. It is a good example of how rhyme and form can be used for an extra effect. In a way it keeps the reader one step removed from the action, we become an audience being entertained, rather than a empathetic participant. This would be a bad thing for some stories but it works well with this one. I really like it.
    Last edited by prendrelemick; 05-14-2014 at 01:17 AM.
    ay up

  5. #5
    All are at the crossroads qimissung's Avatar
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    What is the statue of? Technically, I think it's pretty good. But it's awfully long, and I can't ever quite figure out what it's about. If it's this long it should be telling a story of some kind. Shorter poems are more for capturing a moment or a feeling.
    "The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its' own reason for existing." ~ Albert Einstein
    "Remember, no matter where you go, there you are." Buckaroo Bonzai
    "Some people say I done alright for a girl." Melanie Safka

  6. #6
    It wasn't me Jerrybaldy's Avatar
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    I agree it's too long and tricky to comprehend but I also think it's really well written and reads beautifully at times.

    For those who believe,
    no explanation is necessary.
    For those who do not,
    none will suffice.

  7. #7
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    Thanks, you guys!

    The statue is of a man who looks out at the horizon and cannot ever move (since he's... y'know...a statue) - I thought it would be interesting to explore how he "became" this, so the story should reflect his gradual descent from child to broken man to statue.
    But I get that it's rather repetitive, what with the moon/sea trying the same thing over and over again - I hoped her changing perspectives on her "duty" would move the story forward, but apparently that didn't quite work out.
    Thanks again!

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