Sunday, June 08, 2014

threnody




threnody

the wind whispers
indistinct phrases
that blend into the patter
of a summer's rain
on a tin roof
and in the confusion of sound
i hear what
most i fear
a voice gone silent
and in this pall of dread
i remember your beauty
however twisted and reversed
in the reflections
of puddles too soon passed
in a single step
but these folds of reddest satin
do not enshroud a happier past
instead becoming the shredded
rags and ruins
of all the tattered dreams
we once shared
until at last
i gave up hoping
gave up believing
that you might be there
waiting in the somewhere
of this journey
along the road that leads
at day's end
to places beyond nowhere

i have traveled for so long
i no longer remember where
i have been
and if i stop and consider
then i guess i have to admit
i guess i have to concede
i have no place left to go
except maybe some
lonesome purgatory
where dusky ladies drink
shots of the holiest wine
and offer solace
in the crevices
of their bodies
but little more
and i wonder if time
had not crippled me so
i wonder if i should live
another decade
or maybe two
but only i confess
only with you
by my side
i wonder and i wonder
would i ever be able
to tear the ruffled
curtains of contradiction
away from every window
and at last turn the key
that opens the door
and sets you free

i wish i could count
the kisses of our love
but like a small boy counting stars
i stumble and i fumble
when in an instant
one flickering light
is gone from the splatter of space
leaving a furious trail
in its wake
before disappearing
into forever
and sometimes i wonder
if love's like that
and sometimes i wonder
if my thinking is straight
or bent like smouldering iron
beaten and broken
on a blacksmith's anvil
i guess that the best i can offer
is news i heard along the way
back a lifetime ago
when the teachers
of heartache assured me
that romance is dead
shot twice on a prairie road
before desire
could give way
to desire
shot twice in the loneliness
of a flint-cold afternoon
before passion
could find the spark
to light the dust remaining
and set it on fire

and yes i know
you have read this before
and yes i know
the words grow tedious
and maybe sometimes cold
in the endless
beat of repetition
like waves spraying up from
the seawall of my division
catching sunlight in flight
before crashing like drops of salty tears
across swollen eyes
and for that
i am ever sorry
just remember me
as a man who offered
the world a bouquet
of words and phrases
entwined with the mystery
of weeds and thorny branches
some simple conversation
that i have never claimed
to be miraculous
never even guessed i understood
beyond the sound of my own voice
just know that all that
i have written
i have written because
i had no choice


© Kennedy James. All rights reserved.


 







 

9 comments:

  1. Great poem and excellent choice for an accompanying video, KJ.

    In each of our lives, we experience the wild times, the momentous times, which are forever ingrained in our psyches. We are also composed, even more so, of all those times of eternal mundane sameness, which we never thought would end and which seemed to change very little, day to day. Occasionally, there would be some traumatic event that changed our lives quickly--but, in time, we would recover, and it was back to that mundane sameness and the things in our lives on which we could always count.

    However, there does come a time, I have found out, as if finally waking from a dream state, when we suddenly realize just how much things have changed. The people and places and experiences are all gone now, and we're left standing there alone, like the last man standing, wondering where it all has gone.

    No matter how good or bad life had been, and no matter what right or wrong decisions we made to influence it, life was going to change for us all, regardless of what we did or didn't do, And, whether we stand in our future with regret or with a resigned feeling of acceptance of what is now gone, it is only now that we can see things with a perspective that we heretofore never had.

    ~Manfred

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Very thoughtful response, Manfred ... much of this poem was written with your situation in mind.

      Delete
  2. In all honesty, I had to look up the word "threnody." Manfred has written a beautiful interpretation of your poem. I don't believe anything I have to say can do your words justice. As you said, "you have written because you had no choice." I will look for this poem in your new book.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. P.S. I came back to listen to the music video. It is sooo sweet. Life is very good ... :)

      Delete
    2. Thanks, the poem and the song are very much about letting go, and the difficulty and heartache of doing just that.

      Delete
  3. This composition almost leaves me speechless ... truly beautifully written.
    Perhaps all those we meet are merely the pieces of ourselves that we haven't yet discovered .. and once we discover them .... we change ... and we move on. Perhaps its the dream we lament and mourn ... perhaps feeling lonely is merely a missing part of ourselves .....
    ... a perfect choice of video ... this whole post is worthy of a standing ovation .... Love it!!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. "feeling lonely is merely a missing part of ourselves"

      Absolutely true ... well said ...

      Delete
  4. " i wonder and i wonder
    would i ever be able
    to tear the ruffled
    curtains of contradiction
    away from every window
    and at last turn the key
    that opens the door
    and sets you free"
    awesome :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks, Cin ... nice to see you again after a long departure ... I hope all is well ...

      Delete

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