Sunday, April 22, 2007

sifting the sands of time (poetry with soundtrack)

[The intended soundtrack for this introduction is The Outfield's Since You've Been Gone, which should help some things make slightly more sense.]une petite chou, December 1984

Bear with me, my dear readers (both of you), because I'm going to break into freeverse which doesn't have to make sense to anyone but me. It'd be something (blessing? curse?) if meant something to the person I am writing about (obliquely? directly?)... but I'm not sure what it's supposed to mean to anyone, including myself and especially her. I haven't written anything poetic in ages, possibly because there hasn't been a lot I've needed to somehow say in years (blessing? curse? obliquely? directly?).

[The intended soundtrack for this writing is Meatloaf's Cry Over Me, which is surprisingly spot-on, in either timeframe.]
- - - -
there was a dream that drove me
when all around me was jagged edges and learning curves
I chose one who I felt was in the same sad space
and for awhile we made each other alive

it wasn't her job to validate me
but for a time she did and she got to dance as well
until she came to a point where it wasn't me
the jagged edges and learning curves took her

wanting something to exist doesn't always make it so
-- but sometimes it works for awhile

by the time I could understand
and she landed where she could see clearly as well
there was a different incongruency in our pieces
a whole different set of dangerous terrain

it isn't her job to validate me
but she could try and I would gladly return the favor
the space in time where we may have needed each other
either was spent elsewhere or has yet to be level

wanting something to exist doesn't always make it so
-- but someday it could work again

hey, wanting made it work once.

for the boy who never understood "yes" and "no"
and the girl who never understood "how" and "why"
who finally learned what those things mean...
and may have grown past having a purpose to know.

-m³ 4/22/07 11:22pm

Get out a guitar and write a melody for this.

I don't know the context of it, but if I was an English teacher, I'd give you an A on the poem.
Post a Comment

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?