The pulse that throbs
to the beat of my heart.
to the beat of my heart.
The voice that I hear,
so dear and so near,
when things fall apart.
A final parting?
A goodbye forever?
Can this be it?
A lasting separation?
A goodbye forever?
Can this be it?
A lasting separation?
The pain that sears
seeing love disappear.
As the insides retch,
the mind's in shambles
'n emptiness rambles.
Both the enstranged
and departed are torn,
as am I, in fear,
of an end so forlorn.
13 comments:
you dont usually do poetry, but when you do, its breathtaking... even more so because of the entire effect u create with visuals et al.. loved it.
wow! i love this poem... touches deep... haunts you in a strange way!
first the words... flowing sadly but gracefully...
in most of the poems on the subject of departure one usually reads about the persona's pains and laments and the beloved is scorned for her/his unfaithfulness...
but here the lover's physical and psychological pains are illustrated but the beloved is still looked upon with tenderness and love... the lover is aware of her/his pains too...
this is a mature love... when you are not just 'in' you but 'outside' you, too... when you can feel others' emotions, too...
so grand!
trapped by the deep emotions and wisdom in the piece, you sit back pondering on it... and now you notice that the form is talking about the same thing:
separated blocks of words... but the amazing thing is that... the dominant sounds in the last line of each stanza are repeated in the first line of the next stanza... signifying a bond... defying the separation...
WOW!
the balance in emotions... and the meaningful symmetry in the form.... make this piece shine like a well-cut jewel!
then you are attracted to the title once more... "Crossing Over"
you cross over bridges... bridges both separate and connect you...
they separate you from what is behind you and connect you to what is in front of you... in a way there is no departure; just a continuous journey...
there is also an element of inevitability here...
"you cannot build your house on a bridge", as the crow believes!
(but now she wishes we could! perhaps when we do not want any house, this may be possible! though it might bring lots of new pains)
:)
thus again you see that balance in judgment: the lovers are separated but there is no sign of regret... this relation is regarded maturely as a stage in the cycle of growth... of becoming... of being human...
Id... this poem is YOU! that balance in judgment... that simultaneous presence of emotions and reasoning... that smooth flow of thoughts... that mature point of view...
really really enjoyed reading it and contemplating on it...
one of the best ever... so original and strong!
Sad, heartbreaking, beautiful.
So very beautiful, as is all of your poems. It's obvious that you feel what you are writing and you make the reader feel it too.
Every time that I think you have out done yourself you show me how wrong I am.
I forgot to mention, that picture is so perfect. The bird, the tree the rocks and the stairs.
One could visualize a lot of symbolism in connection to your poem.
Of course that is why you chose it, I just don't know how you were lucky enough to find it.
That is awesome.
Bonjour Id,
Such a wonderful little poem though melancholic.
As a foreigner it is difficult to appreciate most poems in other languages.
Let me wish you joy so that you can make another one, and another one.
Georg
Very sad and gloomy.
Dear Id,
The beauty of unhappiness. Your poem reminds me the dicton I found at Coffee Messiah's blog:
To the world you may be just one person
But to the one person, you may be the world.
A little piece of unsolicited advice: start to make other poems, otherwise it might burn like a brand.
Georg
Seems like you are going thru something....
very moving poetry.
hey Id, dear friend... you and your words are really missed...
stories are endless and when we say them, they heal...
be well and thriving...
Beautiful. It's always difficult to move...to go to a new place...to leave someone behind whether literally or metaphorically...but then life goes on and thats why we have memories...
The end so forlon is finally here
cause you are yourself
I me mine my dear.
Swimming in prose is different from diving into poetry. You have defined it with remarkable aplomb. It extends your repertoire well.
Thanks.
Nanda
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