This is what happens when you listen to Michael Nyman whilst giving into a stream of consciousness.
I smell you holding me so close
but I don’t feel it,
the verglas
on the stars in the night sky
aking over.
A piano set to violins
undulating in the distance.
Perhaps I remembered
how I used to love you
but only when he told me
how he loved his.
Then I remembered.
It’s cold
I want to cry as I remember, cry as I love, cry as I hold on.
The rain sinks into the trees,
the damp bark rising,
catching in my throat. I stand
at the top of tall trees and watch
as the salt waves under me.
Running. Snagging.
The splash of mud to my lips, pulling
me down into its depths,
firmer, harder
down down falling down.
A weight on my chest,
the cold hard to breathe.
It freezes slow
creeping
cold.
Over the ground my body lays
still
held
sparkling.
W-O-W. That’s some imagery! I felt the coldness sweeping over me while I read it – Nice!
And thanks for visiting my blog – I need to get my piece written.
Some really nice images here. Love the first line.
Lauri says Ladies’ No. 1 Field Trip
Beautiful
well i loved the way you worked the theme into this… and such an emotion driven piece of poetry… bravo!!
paisley says first kiss..
I imagine someone under ice, frozen inside their own unhappy end, quite lovely the way you wrote it, like a lost symphony drown out by the fallen lover
lissa says Hell’s Whiskey
Enjoyed the stream of consciousness. Very vivid, especially the penultimate para.
Milo says How do you do!
I really loved that, great imagery
marmite and tea says Contest
I really love the imagery. I could see the entire thing.
So powerful.
‘Perhaps I remembered how I used to love you….’
That line moved me so much.
So good.
Selma says Two Glasses