i will know

[qimissung]

a fire burns in my belly
I breathe the fire out in great massive clouds
interspersed with quietude and gently wispy flames
my eyes burn hot and red
peering from the depths of the cave
where I made my escape
and where I now languish
the land around me a moat of
the dead that the living avoid
the fire rages
but my raging voice is blown across
the sky, lost in the firestorm
and I doubt thus its veracity
I fear also its loss
“don’t die!” I scream. “don’t die before you are born!”
the fire is eating me alive
one by one I pull words from within
moaning in ecstasy at the ribbon of pleasure
that runs through me with each tug
relishing each birth as a small
gift from the gods
setting it free, hoping it will contain
the seeds of freedom
I have been burning for
a hundred years
peering from the cave
my eyes glowing red
I yearn to hear my voice
feel the words sing in the air
arrows winging straight and true
feel them echoing off the canyon walls
this much is true
when I hear it I will know
that voice is mine

[skib]

A very interesting poem, gimissung. I have a vague idea what you are saying (not because your writing is unclear, but because I am not good at reading into things) and it is comfortably disconcerting. I like it.

[qimissung]

Thank you, skib. I like the idea that something I have written is 'comfortably disconcerting.' I often read poetry and am not sure what it means, but I like it anyway. This encompasses several ideas, all linked to our 'voice'-the one we write with, and the one we speak with, our longing to be heard, and our ability to make ourselves heard. The last line is something I actually read in an interview with a famous person who has famously struggled to find "her/himself" and who does some writing.

[skib]

I get it now! :D

[qimissung]

a fire burns in my belly
and when I open my mouth
I fall, a burning cartwheel
Into the abyss
But no sound emerges though
I”m breathing fire in great massive clouds
my eyes burn hot and red
the land around me a lifeless moat
avoided by the living

the fire rages
but my voice is blown across
the sky, encompassed by the firestorm
I doubt thus its veracity
And I tremble at its loss
don’t die!” I scream. “don’t die before you’re born!”
like smoke, my words whirl away,
dissolve into the wind
and I am left mute, again

the fire is eating me alive
one by one I pull words from within
moaning in ecstasy at the ribbon of pleasure
that runs through me with each tug
relishing each birth as a small
gift from the gods
setting them free, hoping they contain
the seeds of freedom

I have been burning for
a hundred years
I yearn to hear my voice
feel the words singing in the air,
a fierce hawk spotting its’ prey,
an arrow flying straight and true,
the slow measured beat of its wings as it lands
this much is sure
when I hear it I will know
that voice is mine

[qimissung]

I think this is stronger. Feedback, anyone? (Be kind! :))

[Lynne50]

Gimmissung... I liked the first version better. It seems to me it had an urgency about it that the second version didn't have. I also like the imagery of the "eyes burn hot and red". Am I correct in this assumption about the urgency or am I way off base? I am definitely not an expert, but I have started to enjoy poetry alot more in my later years.

[skib]

I like the second one as well, but I agree with Lynne, the first one has an urgency to it. Comfortably disconcerting. The second one seems to get softer towards the end, describing the hawk, arrow and wingbeats. It loses its harder edge. I would say, it all depends on what kind of lasting feeling you are trying to get. Well written on both, though.

[qimissung]

Lynne50 and skib, thank you for your very astute observations. Yes, I see the urgency,and after giving it a couple of days, I re-read it and I think I agree. Part of the problem had nothing to do with the poem, in the end. I think it was me. Also, skib,I really liked what you said,about the "lasting feeling." I know what I was going for, but I was having a lot of trouble trusting myself that I'd gotten there.

Thank you both for being interested enough to give me some thoughtful feedback.I really,really appreciate it.

Did you guys know that today is "National Poem in a Pocket Day"?

Have a good one!

[firefangled]

I like the second one best, Qimissung. You certainly do capture what is often the agony and passion of getting voice-the thing that helps make a piece of writing our own-into writing of any kind, especially poetry.