lundi 10 mai 2010

the gift

Antigone,  1941, Mark Rothko 

for my friends who blog their poetry

in that quiet temple of night
or early morning with birdsong
the listless spirit descends
bends her bow, holds her breath
and releases her pearly arrow

the piercing of the heart
opens up old wounds
removes the sutures one by one
numerous threads you've counted on
to keep you safe and still

now widened by a mile and
soaked to the core with
demon tears to unleash a storm
and press you into chanting what
you had hoped to keep quiet

now everywhere and nowhere
the uneven beating, retreating
searching for random signs
then diving into murky waters
where words and time entwine

and for one brief moment
in vagrancy of thought and
broad despair replete with
sudden death and longing for
another life to complete it

the final poem perhaps
one last stab of the muse's
now irrevocable dart to lull
to chill, to harden, and finally
to inspire birth

the poem child antigone
flung in the face of the world
truth and consequence
fidelity unto death
and your legacy born bitter fruit

what more could you want
than this struggle and birth
what more can there be
but you alone in your room
lead on paper, bleeding

you've been given the world
and then cursed to grieve for what
you cannot say with words
and yet be grateful for the gift
for this is what you get

pain and

and then it's over.

5 commentaires:

S.L. Corsua a dit…

This reminds me how writing an autobiographical poem, as a form of release or therapy, can be all sorts of funky strong weather. ;) Come to think of it, any writer, especially early on in the accumulating history of his/her works, has gone, is going, or will go through this phase.

press you into chanting what
you had hoped to keep quiet

sudden death and longing for
another life to complete it

I like those lines, reminiscent of the concept of 'memento mori' in art. :)

Moineau En France a dit…

yeah, i just seem to go through it and back through it once again. the first poem i wrote like this was at the age of 19 and i am now 53... lol. with my pain condition and other impairments, though, writing poetry itself has become a metaphor. so appreciative of comments, dear sl. lots of hits but i think everyone is coming for the bashung. can't blame them. :>>)) xoxooxxo

Moineau En France a dit…

ps. my daughter-in-law is from bohol. i also had a lover once who was filipina and american indian (1977-82); we raised our children together, bought a house. my one-time only daughter victoria died a couple of years ago at age 34. one of these forevers, i'd like to visit the phils. ♥ xoxoxoox

S.L. Corsua a dit…

For the visits and comments, you're welcome. :) I try to make time for an online poetry reading splurge at least twice a month. When real-life-stuff's grip on my arm relaxes a bit. ;) It's like spa for the brain.

So sorry to hear about your pain condition and about the loss of your daughter. The former I can relate to (with my bad back that has me on pain medication for five years now), but the second I cannot begin to imagine. :(

On a lighter note, I bet you've tried Filipino cuisine, no? Hmm. Lemme guess. Adobo? :)

By the way, I listened to you sing "Eh-very Dog Has His Day." And I like your voice; in this key, it's 'cool' (I don't know how to approximate this in English, but in Tagalog, I would say malamig pakinggan) to the ear. Cheers.

Moineau En France a dit…

punsit, ginger beef, lumpia, sweet rice: vengie spoils us all and melaina taught me a long long time ago. i love it!

i'm very proud of "eh-very dog"; it's a top 100 song on soundclick! :>>))

by the time i'd written the first two lines, i knew it was a song and sang it extemporaneously into my mp3 recorder. then ron and i added the simple instruments. i love that song! and absolutely, my voice is much better in the lower keys, i've come to realize that, so much more "personality", which i felt my voice was always lacking. i can sound like jane birkin: who care? lol

i see you got over to ed nudelman's site; i'm glad, he's a good friend. i will get over to your blog very soon and spend some quality time. as for living with chronic pain: we can consider ourselves true survivors. no one knows unless they've lived it.

talk soon, i hope, on your blog. ~laura xooxoxox