"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

Sunday, July 30, 2017

Blindness Serves

Breakfast of a Blind Man
Pablo Picasso (1903)
Fair Use


Never forget
I chose this life of blindness
put out my own eyes
one by one
and I am content
to own a few objects
useful items only

mug    bowl    knife

and I select my food
with the same narrow interest

milk    soup    bread

Living craves more
you might say
but I contend that a time
comes when enough
of no good thing
is more than sufficient
I had all that stuff

spouse    kids    dog

one by one
they left me with pieces
smashed apart
it was this
a small dark room

table    chair    bed

or a short drop to oblivion
Blindness serves me just as well.


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A Glance at Narrative is hosted by Karin in the Imaginary Garden.

21 comments:

  1. Your protagonist's attitude is quietly chilling! You aced the prompt.

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  2. What a story. It reminds me of Oedipus, actually, that kind of grief that leads to self-immolation of a kind. Here the guy seems more to have been done wrong too, because he talks of those leaving him rather than pushing away, or maybe it is just loss. Yet one senses that like all stories, there is greater complexity. These lines hold an especial despair: I contend that a time
    comes when enough
    of no good thing
    is more than sufficient


    Thanks so much, Kerry, and so glad that you offered me the prompt as good for me to get out of ruts! K.

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    Replies
    1. Loss takes its toll. I was wondering how much is too much when I wrote this.

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  3. I love the structure best... the listing lines are perfect for the poem. In a way it shows that the chosen blindness can never be total, even it the speaker might want it to be, since there is still the memory of what was such... and in such detail, too.

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    Replies
    1. Ah... such a perceptive comment. Thanks, Magaly.

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  4. My goodness this is absolutely chilling! Especially the tone at the end; "table, chair, bed or a short drop to oblivion. Blindness serves me just as well" is just fierce! Beautifully rendered.

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  5. The loss and acceptance of that loss is astounding.. life is perhaps nothing more than those simple lists you so expertly weave in

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  6. How the person narrows his life - the three list words between each stanza - so many of us do choose blindness/denial of different sorts. It is sad those of us who are intentionally blind.

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  7. Like being in an old timey prison, bread and water. Except for the confining walls. A very nice for me accompanyment to the Picasso.
    The men in my family, no exceptions, go blind with age. Many at my age. Then they live for a long time afterwards. Dad died at age 97.
    ..

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  8. Well composed. The "blindness" of one's environment. Say what we will, but safe. The 3 words echo the teardrops.

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  9. Blindness serves in different ways, I often wonder are we not all blind in some way? The use of the three words creates a message that stays with the reader.

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  10. What an extraordinary view of life shattered resulting in the need for nothing but the minimum. It was quite shattering to read as there was no hope in his voice.

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  11. A dark tale, Kerry. I like the shape of it, with its lists of three words that emphasise the simplicity of the speaker's life.

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  12. Whilst the poem has it's dark underbelly and despair it offers up a redemptive thread for me. I am reminded by the words of a Native American story called Jumping Mouse. I'm linking here. Just in case.
    http://www.ilhawaii.net/~stony/lore116.html

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  13. ah, you've been peering in my head again, haven't you. ~

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    Replies
    1. I am sorry, my friend. I suffered one loss too many last week.

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    2. :(

      Perhaps, as winter turns its edges north for you, more light will filter to you.

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  14. There is something to be said for a simplified life and a retreat, when loss has been too much. I can see parts of myself in this character.

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  15. A narrow poem... down to stark words.
    Self-realization is a good thing...
    "a time
    comes when enough
    of no good thing
    is more than sufficient"

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  16. I'm usually not big on graphics in poetry, but your spacing of threes was very powerful here. Well done!

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