Kept my jaw so tight; all I lost were teeth
Walked into the sea; all I saw were teeth
Swept my hand through moonlight; all I met were teeth
Call the dreams with burning air, with glass
Listen for the sluice of waves; we separate them there.
Drowned my words just right; all I lost was breath
Swallowed salt to taste my fears; all I wept was breath
Tossed a book into the trash; all I heard was breath
Call the dreams with burning air, with glass
Listen for the sluice of waves; we separate them there
Sharing with a wonderful group of poets and yet another awesome group of poets. :) Basically, poets are wonderful people and poems are wonderful things...with apologizes to A.A. Milne or Walt Disney and the writer of Tigger's wonderful song about himself. I am not made of rubber & springs, but I am half wishing that I had that ability to leap over grumpiness and puzzlement and just glory in whatever wonderful thing has caught my attention, rather than doomscrolling (a new favorite word) for the latest in excavating the bar for the ease of bad ideas. Which is why at least one day of poems is a wonderful, human thing. Poems aren't (generally) just lugubrious paeans to the shovel, shrugging blithely but grimly as another depth is reached. They point out that there is more to the world than the shovel; that the shovel has a wielder; that butterflies are landing on the mound of excavated dirt; that a shovel is a tool that can be put away. And poems are wonderous, wonderful, wandering things.
-- Chrissa
There is a haunting feel to this stunning poem but yet a freedom of hope of what will be as well. I adore the line, "swept my hand through moonlight" and the repetition of teeth and breath and what comes of our losses brings the message of it all across powerfully my friend. Yes poets and poetry is a wonderful part of life! Your end notes are as poetic as your poem my friend. I love every poetic line and will carry this poem with me for a long long time!
ReplyDeleteThe World needs to read this .... I sit at my desk with so much emotion running thru me I cannot begin to describe. The poem and your notes .. again, the World deserves every word.
ReplyDeleteWell said Chrissa, well said.
ReplyDelete"Swept my hand through moonlight" ... I love that phrase, and your ending reverie was such a special bonus!
ReplyDelete"Kept my jaw so tight; all I lost were teeth
ReplyDeleteWalked into the sea; all I saw were teeth" - oh! So, so good!
Lost my teeth, lost my breath, but I didn't lose to death!
ReplyDeleteI read that first stanza over and over--such strong imagery! There is something stunningly terrible about all those teeth...
ReplyDeleteLove your note.
Sounds like the worth of a poet. We get our teeth into it and sometimes it takes our breath away or. we're hurt with the bite
ReplyDeleteA really clever Sunday Lament
ReplyDeleteStay safe. Happy Sunday
Much💖love
The chorus here is astonishingly good--reaching beyond the liminal, finding the source, trying to comprehend what is whispered in our heads...the repetition at the end of your main stanzas is also extremely effective. And I just love the way it sounds and reaches into me. Lovely poem.
ReplyDeleteI don't know if it was the intention of the piece, but I thought of all the bits of myself I cut off in attempts to do things that weren't all that important in retrospect. Sometimes in silent moments, I'll find them again, waiting to be reclaimed or laying like an accusation for me to confront.
ReplyDeleteI applaud the calling of dreams in whatever voices we can muster. I enjoyed your ponderings about butterflies and shovels and how each shovel has a wielder. Cool.
ReplyDeleteAll those teeth, certainly made me uneasy. I kept thinking of voices that try to drown me out, but slip into their own forced silence.
ReplyDeleteYeah, I'm definitely closer to the 'breath' lines than the 'teeth' lines, but um, ain't no bad lines here. Chrissa. Salute!
ReplyDeleteThis is just a blue pleasure, Chrissa.
ReplyDeleteThere is a great sense of loss to me here. Our teeth are often used to identify us when not much else remains. I think we all feel
ReplyDeletea bit lost during these trying times.
How good it is to read poetry that takes out of our safety zone and makes us ponder on the subject and be entranced by your words.
ReplyDeleteI like the "Wandering" aspect of the writings of the poets. From butterflies to the inventions of science, a broad spectrum.
ReplyDelete..
Great use of repetition, Chrissa, which gives this poem a frame on which to hang beautiful phrases and lines like ‘Swept my hand through moonlight’, ‘Call the dreams with burning air, with glass’, and ‘swallowed salt to taste my fears’.
ReplyDeleteSpooky-magical! Gorgeous and, as has been said already, haunting. Your note is a wonderful piece of writing too.
ReplyDeleteThe repetition is fantastic!
ReplyDeletei love the form of this poem, the repetition giving it an urgency, as if wielding a shovel to bury something. it's a really lovely poem.
ReplyDeleteyes, "poems are wonderous, wonderful, wandering things. " :)
Love everything about this poem! Repetition of lines, the fact that a shovel can be put away, and “swept my hand through moonlight.” Outstanding, Chrissa.
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