We

[_Shannon_]

We

Two grey, worn
books
of poetry

bound up together
with
brown twine

laid upon the
bed
as offering.

They are
smooth.
They smell
of must.

They are everything
ever
hoped for

laid upon the
bed
as offering

bound up together
with
brown twine

Two grey, worn
books
of poetry.

[PrinceMyshkin]

What a delicate touch! You left me hungry to know the names of these books but content to wonder for whom they are an offering.

[_Shannon_]

LOL- they were the complete works of Charles Reznikoff. :)

[_Shannon_]

I guess I'll throw another or so on here...

Driving Home

Desert eyes, parched
stare ahead
just beyond the blackness;
As window-down
cold air wisps hair
against parted lips
in caressing kiss.
Phantom wail
train bemoans
the furlough's nearing end
out in to the darkness.
Ecstacy of freedom
entangled bedsheets
of dampness and moonlight
and hiddeness.
Inhaling the pleasure
of liberty

Even as the yellow lines lead back to bondage.

[PrinceMyshkin]

As with your previous poem I much admire the spareness with which you write but had one minor and one larger problem with this
I guess I'll throw another or so on here...

Driving Home

Desert eyes, parched
stare ahead
just beyond the blackness;
As window-down
cold air wisps hair
against parted lips
in caressing kiss.
Phantom wail
train bemoans
the furlough's nearing end
out in to the darkness.
Ecstacy of freedom
entangled bedsheets
of dampness and moonlight
and hideness.perhaps this is meant to be hiddenness or hiding?
Inhaling the pleasure
of liberty

Even as the yellow lines lead back to bondage.

The larger problem for me are the references to temporary freedom and implied enduring bondage. The
Ecstacy of freedom
entangled bedsheets
of dampness and moonlight
and hideness

will surely lead most readers to understand the poem to be about a brief romantic interlude away from an oppressive marriage? Is that your intent? If not, some changes need to be made.

[Sweets America]

We

Two grey, worn
books
of poetry

bound up together
with
brown twine

laid upon the
bed
as offering.

They are
smooth.
They smell
of must.

They are everything
ever
hoped for

laid upon the
bed
as offering

bound up together
with
brown twine

Two grey, worn
books
of poetry.

I loved this when I read it this morning, but couldn't find anything interesting to say about it, so I'll just say that I love it. :)

[_Shannon_]

As with your previous poem I much admire the spareness with which you write but had one minor and one larger problem with this

The larger problem for me are the references to temporary freedom and implied enduring bondage. The

will surely lead most readers to understand the poem to be about a brief romantic interlude away from an oppressive marriage? Is that your intent? If not, some changes need to be made.Thanks- fixed the typo.

It is not precisely a romantic interlude--insofar as being out in the nighttime was not adulterous...but the night to me has always been sort of a lover...which sounds really stupid- but is how I feel about the night.

Years ago now- I had been driving home at night with the window down (I always drive with the window down, even in the winter- I just turn the heat way up), and this train came barrelling beside me--and I just felt so, so free....and things at home then were, so, so bad. SO yes- genrealy that was my intent. Knowing that- does it still need to be tweeked?


I loved this when I read it this morning, but couldn't find anything interesting to say about it, so I'll just say that I love it. :)
LOL! I know that's how I feel when I read so much stuf...
A lot of my poetry is particularly formatted, and I don't know how to do that on here, so I'm really limited in my selection I can post.

[goldenrod]

Liked this because of bias!? Have made one or two attempts at creating something similar...at least, I think so!?

goldenrod.

[qimissung]

Love both your poems; I think what I like about them is the air of mystery you manage to create, and your imagery is lovely. I didn't really get the sense that someone in the poem was committing adultery, but when I went back and read it again, I didn't know what it meant-but I still liked it. I think they are great just as they are. I think understanding is occasionally over-rated in poetry. The sense of mystery you create is part of what makes these poems interesting, and good, kind of like Walter de la Mare's poetry.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Thanks- fixed the typo.

It is not precisely a romantic interlude--insofar as being out in the nighttime was not adulterous...but the night to me has always been sort of a lover...which sounds really stupid- but is how I feel about the night.

Years ago now- I had been driving home at night with the window down (I always drive with the window down, even in the winter- I just turn the heat way up), and this train came barrelling beside me--and I just felt so, so free....and things at home then were, so, so bad. SO yes- genrealy that was my intent. Knowing that- does it still need to be tweeked?

Well, yes... The easier way to go would be to suggest an affair in the usual sense of the word. That the night, and the freedom of driving through a characterless desert was your 'lover' would be a harder thing to imply. Alternately - paying more attention now to the colour of those yellow lines leading you (presumably) home, it might benefit from a hint as to what makes that domesticity bondage.

[PabloQ]

Really like We. Liked it better when I thought it was about two old lovers who had died at the same time. I'm sorry to hear it was just two books of poetry.
I like the tone of Driving Home, but felt it might be even more powerful if adjusted slightly at the front.
Desert eyes
parched
staring just beyond the blackness
window down
cold air
wisps of hair against parted lips
caressing kiss [another thought to add "of night" to show the love of the night]
And then the rest of goes pretty well from there. Even though you didn't write it that way, it's kind of the way I read it.
One last thought, you're taking the mystery out of the poetry when you explain them. One of the things I enjoy about poetry is trying to interpret what was really going on in the poet's mind at the writing.
Good job!!

[Anatoliy]

i also liked WE and also thought that it was about two lovers... and now i'm a little bit disappointed. i've just read something similar in another thread, but that poem was primitive. and this one has a wonderful imagery. anyway, i like WE. and i'll try to persuade me, that it's about lovers :)

[blazeofglory]

We

Two grey, worn
books
of poetry

bound up together
with
brown twine

laid upon the
bed
as offering.

They are
smooth.
They smell
of must.

They are everything
ever
hoped for

laid upon the
bed
as offering

bound up together
with
brown twine

Two grey, worn
books
of poetry.

I bet every reader hungers for these books of poetry

[amanda_isabel]

I loved them both! The soft quality is evocative, really... And the idea of the affair thingy with the second poem is lovely, and I can relate somewhat (probably not completely.) Well done! :D

[_Shannon_]

Really like We. Liked it better when I thought it was about two old lovers who had died at the same time. I'm sorry to hear it was just two books of poetry.
I like the tone of Driving Home, but felt it might be even more powerful if adjusted slightly at the front.
Desert eyes
parched
staring just beyond the blackness
window down
cold air
wisps of hair against parted lips
caressing kiss [another thought to add "of night" to show the love of the night]
And then the rest of goes pretty well from there. Even though you didn't write it that way, it's kind of the way I read it.
One last thought, you're taking the mystery out of the poetry when you explain them. One of the things I enjoy about poetry is trying to interpret what was really going on in the poet's mind at the writing.
Good job!!
Well--it wasn't just about two books of poetry. Those were the first gift I ever received from my now husband...and the poem was written after we came back from the brink of marital disaster-a decade into our marriage--and so the books were actual books-but also metaphorical for what I hoped for us to one day be --if that makes sense??

LOL! I ought to really read whole posts before I respond, eh?

thanks for the suggestions--I'll study it :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

--if that makes sense??


Love and Sense are two different languages for which, as yet, no translator has been found. Love was made to confound Sense and Sense to smash itself against the craggy shores of Love.