the ocean always dreamed blue dreams

Oh, Qimmisung! I could of course comment on the poetic excellence of this, the images that always ring true and are never showy, the way you break your lines - as credible as somone's breathing - but I am more moved (and upset) by the content of what I take to be a dream, an unpleasant, anxiety-ridden dream.

If there is anything really autobiographical in this, I hope you are able to consult your abundant resources of intelligence and optimism in the face of it.

I am blessed by your existence.

Thank You, Prince! It is NOT autobiographical. I'm not sure I could post something this personal and painful on the web. But, again, thank you for your comments, especially "images that always ring true and are never showy", well, and all of them.

This reads O.K. to me. I wrote it late last night, and I always woriry that I'll come back and find something like this to be dreck.

Thanks Prince, for being the first to read and comment on my blog!

Welcome to the blogs Qimi. A disturbing poem. Feels like some impending doom. THese lines were most interesting:

I haunt myself
play a blue guitar
dawn never comes,
and the sun, it never sets

Thank You for dropping by Virgil. You are an astute poetry reader, so I appreciate your comments.

I like those lines, too.

I love the disjointedness of the line breaks, creating a slightly off-key, slightly disturbing feel. It's hard to single out any lines as particularly good, as it is all good, but I especially enjoyed this part:

you will abandon me

great, winged thing,
pluck out my heart again
dig out the bullet
plunge your claws deep
into the muscle
pain, like a sunburst, fills my eyes
arterial blood a lake that I must swim

which seems so sad and so viceral at the same time. As always, a sensory journey. I enjoyed your use of discreet rhyme too, makes for a good poem if read aloud.

Thank you, fifth. I like that part as well. I enjoy trying to create a sense of you are there when I write, so I'm glad the sensory part seems to be working.