Wednesday, 16 November 2011

No More Bridges

You take out your blade
and cut down the clouds.
Their softness a blight
in your hard edged world.

You collate all the bridges
and you set them a burning.
Until everything's destroyed
but their rusted-out bones.

You drag the singing bird
down from the cloudless sky.
Its feathered beauty, stretched
and ragged in your idle hands.

You judge the nods and winks
as evidence of your belonging.
A cracked glaze on a broken pot
that leaks, and spills, and stains.

You think it is just beginning,
the tide rolling in and carrying
your long awaited ship in its swell.
You do not see the rocks you made.

And you can straighten the cushions,
put on the kettle, and bake a fine cake.
But your house is barren, and the path
to your doorway is covered in thorns.

This was written for The Sunday Whirl and I managed to include all of the prompt words (rusted-out, nods, glaze, beginning, stretched, ragged, rolling, blade, straighten, clouds, drag, bridges.) - A strange and bitter tale seemed to arise out of this set of words for me. I stared at them and 'got' the first two lines and just went on from there!


fija said...

i always love to read poems in my spare time , i dunno why but i think poems and songs are much connected to my heart .

Fireblossom said...

This absolutely brilliant.

Anonymous said...

Beautiful poetry, Susannah. Poetry can be so personal its embarrassing, but you've struck just the "write" note between the deepness inside and the world without.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

WOW! What a fantastic read!!!!!! Dragging the singing bird from the sky.....I especially love "the path to your doorway iscovered in thorns". Wowzers, some great poems on the blogosphere smorgasbord this snowy morning!

goatman said...

Your derived poem seems to flow but I cannot yield much insight or meaning.
I guess that is the problem when some of the words come from others
rather than ones self.
But you did build the words.

Susannah said...

Goatman I think you have hit the nail on the head there.

Though the words flow, it doesn't seem to have that intrinsic meaning or feeling, because it did not stem from one.

The words were built around something (the words) rather than arising out of an emotion or insight as 'mine' usually do.

Thanks for helping me to understand that. :-)

Thanks too to the other commenters, it is good to see you all. x

Rajesh said...

Violent! You got this streak that comes out every once in a while, one that is bleak and desolate and grey. I guess we all have such shades in our writings...

Susannah said...

Rajesh, Violent! Your comment made me laugh. :-)

It is only a 'story' luckily, but strong emotions usually make for good stories. I shall get back to my usual style soon. :-)

Good to see you.

All Souls said...

Marvellous. I'll come back again and again .......

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