When it comes to poetry, I admit I am a little cynical. I write poems, but they are not really things I’d rather put up on a blog.
Rick Mobbs, who is an artist by profession, but a painter and poet at heart has asked me more than once to share with him the fiction I have been writing. Uh, I thought, why not poetry? Maybe go the whole hog and make a complete fool of myself?
I have put up a short story which was work in progress but is still to make the final draft, and I remember a flash fiction piece as well that I included as a sample, so poetry it will be for you, Rick!
—————–The Key —————–
You turned the key to my soul
and without as much as a knock, entered.
You made yourself at home.
You peeled the curtains
looked at the underwear
dripping over the sink,
and picked a bit at the peeling paint.
You fluffed the cushions
so I was scared to lean back,
petrified; and forgot to smoke
in ringlets my pipe dreams,
lest the ash prove too much
for the aged carpet
you seemed to like.
There was not a lot
of light to begin with
but you covered the panes
with colored paper.
It was dark before,
now there was color,
but no sunshine.
You stayed, for years,
and though I always slept
long after you sunk
into an unbroken slumber
of pleasant dreams
I was always awake
before you were,
you never caught me asleep.
Now you have left.
You had the key to me
but had never meant to set me free
so I turned you out when you
would have stayed.
Did you, as you passed, drop the key
at the bin near the gate
or have you carried it
at your breast with your car keys?
I have heard the key turn
at the door once, and only once.
I know I shall not hear it again.
I wait, silent, breathless;
listening for that swift knock instead
that shall fall on eager ears
softly at first; and then louder still:
the call that each of us
await each nightfall
in trepidation, hope;
to be freed once for all
of these prisons each
of our own making.
The poem holds up well, and reads with new richness.
Whisperedsweet, you are very kind.
Thanks for having the patience to read through the whole thing. Now that I look back on it, it is somewhat Long.
Rick,….um, err..thankyou, I guess.
I am glad you liked the stuff I put up, and yes, I’d like to take part in writing challenges, they so keep the creative juices flowing.
Thanks for all your kind words, they really made my day:).
When it comes to poetry, I think it is hard to define talent. Poetry is so many, many different things. Any case, I enjoyed your poem. It was beautifully rendered.
You are too hard on yourself! I think you have the talent in good measure, too! And pat yourself on the back for putting the poem (and the stories!) out here for everyone to see. That takes courage, especially when you have not done it before. I like your work and your spirit, your inventiveness and I like the mystery of this poem. I hope you will share more.
I’ll come back to the story with more time. The flash story started in such a lovely way and then came to that spooky, unsettling ending. I could see enjoying the challenge of a flash or micro-story.
It is past midnight here. Good night for now!!
That is high praise coming from you.
Risk and honesty are important, but I am not sure those are not the only things a poet needs. Talent is important, and I’m afraid I haven’t got much of it.
I don’t consider myself much of a poet, though I teach poetry both in the study of literature and in creative writing. However, poetry takes risk, and it takes honesty. You’ve done a beautiful job of both!