"Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky,
We fell them down and turn them into paper,
That we may record our emptiness."
Khalil Gibran

Tuesday, April 4, 2017

A Lesson for Tuesday

Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
Asleep on the black trunk,
Blowing like a leaf in green shadow.
James Wright


Nude Woman Reclining
Vincent Van Gogh (1887)



IV

If Spring held back, too trepidatious,
there would be no tomorrow
no end to this dull shroud-surrounded day –
in which I stepped out to walk the corridors
where people meet and ply their trade.
I felt like I had no place for myself in my body
though it behaved admirably
and even had a nod and a smile for strangers –
How does my soulless self look to you?
I asked a withered woman.
She smiled, quite shy, and assured me
she was not yet fifty but her eyes slid
from mine as if the glare were too bright –
My soul belongs to you, and this they do not know.
I hold nothing from your mouth, hands, eyes
and, yes, the past is long lost, maybe even redemption,
for who may enter heaven bereft of soul –
but I would give that up for another day
to feel you make love to my true name.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Marian is hosting The Tuesday Platform in the Imaginary Garden. She suggested a 5 line poem featuring three colours but James Wright did it in 3. However, this gave me the opportunity to read more of Wright's poetry, which I am finding extremely inspiring.

The photographic art work I had originally included with my post is under copyright. It is entitled Union Libre (Poem by Andre Breton Embossed in Braille on A Photograph) by Leon Ferrari and may be viewed HERE.


And a reading...


30 comments:

  1. This weaves it's way along with a sense of other-worldliness/out of body until the last lines slam dunk you back into being.

    ReplyDelete
  2. luv the in-your-face beginning

    "If Spring held back, too trepidatious,
    there would be no tomorrow
    no end to this dull shroud-surrounded day –"

    Then it reads like a walk through the park in self absorbed contemplation

    Happy you dropped by my blog 'verses' today

    much love...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. 'self absorbed contemplation' is a good description of poetry.

      Delete
  3. Hah! Smartypants. Love that James Wright verse.
    And your poem... sigh. Lush, and yes, contemplative for sure. Some days I do have to trust my corporeal self to behave while the rest of me floats elsewhere. I had hoped no one would notice, but maybe I am wrong about that.

    ReplyDelete
  4. I recognize that outer self behaving normally, while the inside is empty and quiet and enduring loss. Wonderfully done., Kerry. The Wright verse is astonishing.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Not so much empty as absent.
      Thanks, Sherry.

      Delete
  5. Holy moly, the last five lines ...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you! I hoped they would be the best part.
      :-)

      Delete
  6. So many lines I could relate to until the last few, awesome!

    ReplyDelete
  7. My soul belongs to you, and this they do not know.
    I hold nothing from your mouth, hands, eyes
    and, yes, the past is long lost, maybe even redemption,
    for who may enter heaven bereft of soul –
    but I would give that up for another day
    to feel you make love to my true name.


    This is absolutely breath-taking...!!❤️

    ReplyDelete
  8. Sometimes I wonder how come no-one sees the turmoil inside... maybe they have a similar wriggle of worms inside.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Most certainly.. and from the wriggle comes the poetry.

      Delete
  9. An interesting poem. I find myself re-reading it, attempting to get the full meaning... There's a lot packed in there, or at least it seems to me.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I think poems have a meaning for the poet and many different meanings for the readers, which is why we're so lucky to get insight into how other people respond to the view. Thank you.
      Thank you.

      Delete
  10. You inspire me to hunt up more of James Wright! This is all gorgeous, and the last line gives me wonderful shivers: you said it so right.

    ReplyDelete
  11. In this poem, I see Amor. She is up there in years. Her life has changed so much (toward her "dream"). And yet...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Very interesting aspect to the wizened woman.. she is there to throw interpretation wide.
      Thank you.

      Delete
  12. This is lovely, Kerry. The true name reminds me of such wizardry--the ability to see that such a gift and to be seen in that way another gift. Very effectively done, I thought--just that longing to be known, acknowledged, truly seen. Very human. k.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes.. a trip to Earthsea.
      I wanted it to be human in a different way, so many thanks.

      Delete
  13. felt like I had no place for myself in my body.... that's such a strong line...love it.

    ReplyDelete
  14. I always imagine you reading, your intonation and pauses, and emphases, and especially that final line ~

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh, alright.. since you asked so nicely.

      ;-)

      Delete
  15. This is a nice chapter, Kerry. I always like reading the pieces/parts about soul giving and selling. Think I've said that I would give my soul for whatever. You quickly reminded me over Marlowe's Dr. Faustus.
    I also like your van Gogh picture choice, I like van Gough but was not familiar with this one. We stayed a week a few years ago at St. Remy. He may have painted this picture just before he cut his ear off and went to St. Remy to admit himself. I have a nice photo corresponding to his olive orchard painting. The grove is just outside the institution building, the small mountains are south, also in his painting and my picture.
    ..

    ReplyDelete
  16. when "My souls belongs to you..." begins, i was having my favorite kind of WHOA moment where I'm holding my breath, all that is not said is completely said in a few lines. The woman's eyes slipping from the brightness--that part is a timestopping treasure
    amy

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Your comment made me go WHOA! So I thank you for that.

      Delete
  17. A raw spring wind to this, still too bracing with winter but trying. Does poetry lead us back to poetry, to ourselves, perhaps even back to our souls? Reading Wright -- and your responses to him -- make me think so.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I believe it to be a never-ending cycle.. as you know.. leading us back to the age of bards.

      Delete
  18. This is beautiful Kerry both as as written and its wondrous content. The close left me quite emotional.
    Kind regards
    Anna :o]

    ReplyDelete

Let's talk about it.