My Ode To Helen

[miyako73]

Don't I see first the corners,
The glued traces,
The edges of lines,
The sharpness of squares
Framing the scribbles
Of the hand I miss,
Before I hear you-
Your pauses,
Your doubtful stops,
Your sighs,
Your extended gasps,
Your words
Silent and unspoken,
Your thoughts
Sealed and quiet?

The tiny one you tell me
That sings the old language
That you can't hear,
Can't understand,
That wakes you up
When the morning is late,
That tells you about seasons,
The chatters of wind,
Of leaves,
Of afternoon rain,
The wondering of children,
Their smeared faces,
Their noisy feet,
Has the words of the mute
On its feathers.

The little blossom you describe,
A fruit still pungent,
Still yellow,
That stalks the teasing,
The hugs of the sun,
That begs for careful tickles
For quick chats,
For your dance,
That pleas for incantations,
The laments of the bees,
That knows about waiting,
The cycle of dreams,
The eagerness of time,
Has your patient words
In its ripening.

Don't you see the silk,
Its curls,
Translucent,
Subtle red,
The thick borders,
The glints that sparkle
The excitement of eyes,
The texture of ribbons
Tied and tight,
Before you open the box
And find my gentle incitement
Waiting for the scribbles
You form,
You deform,
Now new and limitless?

[Buh4Bee]

The last stanza kills the flow. It's nicely crafted with a smooth transition from image to image and thought to thought, but then you introduce yourself and a box. What gentle incitements are being offered? What is limitless- scribbles? The last stanza just killed it for me.

[miyako73]

The Author receives a letter from Helen, and Helen receives a gift from the author. This is about reading and writing. "Gentle incitement" is a gift that encourages. The limitless are the scribdles, their formations and deformations. After all, this is an ode to a poetry critic, Helen Vendler.

Thanks, Bee for reading and posting questions. I, too, find this poem unrealized. Well I'll continue working on it.