There is so much happening in a person’s face. And in their story, and their song.
Inside Out
We all need ribbons of sweet notes
to wind around our wounds,
like bandages for deep cuts
and burns -- such pain
beneath the purple satin ribbon
wide across our gaping hearts,
flapping open, flapping apart,
beating ourselves to death by
trying to keep the inside in
and the outside out.
Trading
She aches from what happened
and didn't.
She wants to erase them both,
but they are indelible ink
flowing through veins
like the earliest memory
of a loving mother
or the first ever shot of whiskey.
She wants to trade the past and future
for the present,
but that would be offering
nothing for something --
an old shoe and a guess
for someone to love.
A remarkably powerful poem, much for what is left unsaid, or couched between the lines. Many a reader can relate to this from their own experience. A fine poem indeed, self-contained and with depth.
Regrets of what was and wasn't - would could have and what didn't.
Such intensity of the roads never trekked, and the choices caused ghastly voices of lost hope.
I guess she/he needs to uncork the bottled up feelings
Hmm, you've described my life almost to perfection.
First off, the pic is perfect with its facially-sharp contrasts caught in what one might imagine time's flow of movement in such soft and gentle striations. The poem, however, is with much more to savor. The metaphor of "both" following the "trying to keep the inside in and the outside out" give the poem acceleration into the thoughts of any conscious reader, resulting, at least with this reader, identity. If only more writers would see the value in choosing words and phrases that beg a question of the reader, our lexicon of understanding would make quantum leaps. Phrases like "a loving mother or the first-ever shot of whiskey" give so much for one to ponder, seeking the poet's meaning while using it for oneself. Bravo this write.
I met Jerome on a busy city street in Baltimore, Maryland, when he was forty-five years old. On that particular day, I was out and about, enjoying a much-needed day off from work.
I wanted to purchase a sukiyaki sub. I parked my car in an area of
A book-length psychodynamic study of pathological narcissism, relationships
with abusive narcissists, and the Narcissistic Personality Disorder, using a new vocabulary.
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Such intensity of the roads never trekked, and the choices caused ghastly voices of lost hope.
I guess she/he needs to uncork the bottled up feelings
Hmm, you've described my life almost to perfection.
It's a masterpiece.