You Are Going
Maddened by melancholy and I am
faulted because of your bitterness.
I make a sacrifice on the altar.
Come and commit with manacled
Hands to grope, strum, and hurt.
Say it.
You are going.
We grapple with time held in the clock.
Dancing in my distilled shrine,
You fault me for playing at the gate,
As you waft laughter
Through your unfinished lie.
Shining on the heights with drunken
Moons alter your reality.
~Jennifer
faulted because of your bitterness.
I make a sacrifice on the altar.
Come and commit with manacled
Hands to grope, strum, and hurt.
Say it.
You are going.
We grapple with time held in the clock.
Dancing in my distilled shrine,
You fault me for playing at the gate,
As you waft laughter
Through your unfinished lie.
Shining on the heights with drunken
Moons alter your reality.
~Jennifer
posted by Jennifer at 11:38 PM
2 Comments:
Thank goodness, random poster, you got exactly what I meant! /rolls eyes/
Since there haven't been any comments besides Parke's (which are greatly appreciated), I'll go ahead and explain this a bit. This is the final draft of an old poem that I wrote in my first poetry workshop. The assignment was to take a poem written in a language I don't know (I think this one was Spanish or Italian) and phonetically "translate" it then create a poem using any words and images that come out of it. So that's what I did. My goal with it was to create a feeling, connect with the reader. It is not based on a former relationship (never had one) and I wasn't thinking of a specific person when I wrote it. But as the poem went through drafts (over the course of 3 years) I did steer it to relate to my closest approximation of a boyfriend and the way things didn't go.
Mostly though, I was trying to create vivid imagery and flowing language. I understand it's quite vague and apparently modern so don't let it make you feel stupid or like you're missing something. If it made you feel something (even repulsion), then you "get it." So comment and criticize. Be brutal. I can take it.
I like the imagery brought to mind by your word-play, but it read more like prose than a poem to me. I can see it fleshed out - knowing that you translated it from another language definately put a different twist on the 5th time I read it. Good cadence.
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