If I could speak your language the way you do,
use and abuse the words the way you can,
if I could dispose of the sounds, organize the music, arrange the sentences and construct poetry with the simple usage of your grammar,
then I would express the richness of feeling,
the palette of spring tones that is now a mere black and white film,
I would describe tones of dusk and dawn,
sounds of the silvery night,
landscapes of pure sensation.
I wouldn't feel so tied down in my way of speaking of this matter,
I would leave the symbolic and the allegoric behind,
I would write only of the tried and true,
embody the dream I thought was ethereal
and I would feel closer to you.
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23 comments:
i could smell, taste, see, feel
this
stunning words:)
this is GREAT!
Simply beautiful!
I really love the way u write!
muito bom :D
ooooooowwwwoooooooo
i just love this. you are amazing.
Maddie: Hope it was tasty :)
Shadow: yay! Thanks.
Niall: Ah, thank you.
Lucy: I appreciate that.
Deebluewater: Olá! Obrigada.
Chrispito: Oh thanks :)
I'm struck by the (seemingly) (counterintuitive) notion that fluency leads from the symbolic and allegoric to the tried and true: the complex journey to the simple...
Murat: haha, well-observed. But it made perfect sense when I wrote it. ;)
In short, I guess fluency would eventually lead to a point where words were no longer necessary. Strange, huh?
DM: I'm not exactly disagreeing with you: counterintuitive though it may seem, it feels right to me. My folderol and brouhaha may bring big fireworks from the BIG CHIEF firework stands, but that stuff is easy, compared to straight from the heart.
DM: I'm not exactly disagreeing with you: counterintuitive though it may seem, it feels right to me, too. My folderol and brouhaha may bring big fireworks from the BIG CHIEF firework stands, but that stuff is easy, compared to straight from the heart.
Murat: Sure, I understood, but you made me think about it.
Looks like you've done a fine job already!
Wowsers, Devil Mood,
I just found you through missalister, and I recently found murat11 as he found me through missalister, too.
And this poem resonates so clearly, with me.
It's like plucking a guitar string and watching and listening to a similarly pitched string vibrate in sympathy.
Or going to a Tuvaan throat-singing concert in a small church. Or to a classical operatic singer's concert and sitting in the dress circle. It then, when songs notes loosen your heart, making it vibrate so strongly that you wonder if mere sinews and slender ribs can keep your wet meat from bursting and thrumming out of your chest and soaring up to the rafters and then down to the voice that is calling it closer.
I hear your words, or missalisters or murat11s, and I wonder how I could ever sparkle so beautifully or deeply or truly as that.
I yearn and feel that I fall short, time and again.
And "If" expresses the ideas that sparkle between my neurons, but that fall flat on their delicate, fragile selve when they trip and drip forlornly onto the page. Dripping too heavy, burdened by the ink with which I try to maintain their previously supple and effervescent life.
Those sad thoughts, on ink life support, reject my medicines.
And congeal, thickly, supine on the screen. A sticky mess.
Though I yearn to create and to join in the ecstatic that I perceive.
Long ramble short; this is wonderful.
And reading it, I sight and sigh...
If....
Tschuess,
Chris
SirBarrett, well thanks, I guess.
Sapiru Chris: How nice to have your visit here. I wish I was so eloquent and inspired in a simple blog comment. But I can definitely tell that you come from murat and missalister ;) haha
I can definitely understand how hard it is to capture those magical 'things' in the air and put them into paper.
Hey Devil Mood,
You spoke my ideas so well in this poem, that I wrote about you today. Sort of.
Go figure.
Tschuess,
Chris
Sorry for the terseness today.
It's hard to be eloquent when jelly is oozing out beside the key that would be the last letter of the alphabet... internet cafe. Bombay. 'Nuff said.
“If” is exquisite agony, Ms. Mood! Its words are alive with meaning, a wistful mix of longing, honor, and melancholy. It’s what folks who call themselves writers long to see come out of themselves. Seems anything that lives on through anything over time, anything that’s poignant like this, is that because it speaks the universal language as this does. “If” speaks of a perception of one beautiful thing that feels so far out of reach. Whether it feels that way because of opposing situations or desires, it still leaves one with the same statical torment of awe and melancholy coexisting. Beautiful. So really, ironically, you have achieved your desire in "If" : )
i love it :) you're sucha great writer.
Lovely,
I like the way 'I' addresses 'you' from If I to I would. Also, your use of internal rhyme.
MissAlister - So overwhelmed by your comment that I had to wait to reply, I guess. Thank you x 100 times :)
Floreta - Thank you, I appreciate that coming from you.
Sweet Talking Guy - hehe I did attempt to rhyme. How cheesy of me. Thanks!
This flowed so beautifully...I especially loved 'sounds of the silvery night'. There were many more phrases that struck me, but that one was very nice! Lovely read.
this gave me great joy to read...
Fledging Poet: Oh thank you, I liked that too.
Quin Browne: I'm so glad!
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