Hey,
I’ve been trying to talk
in the sandbanks of languid darkness,
eons of violets caved in embryos
a pitfall of resignation;
you can never hear my voice,
but you will see my eyes shift to the ground
spending reflection—who are you,
you, you are little known,
and that’s okay, as a faceless shore,
we do not need to be known.
Console me one night,
my blood. rushing. wenge.
Leach into the lady
of rocks; reverie mistrusted,
silence repeats on waned breath,
the plea for fate
whispers forgotten,
preyed upon fleeing mind,
the wicked gallow of the sun
and it fell to the bled roots
in drought amid
phalanges
on littoral crawls
on strings like a lute;
Echoes rose
to ossicles; solipsism forms
over the cenotes
I succumb to my mistakes.
The pond abreast with spitting hue,
by my mother’s garden,
there are layers of hay which are blind
and torn to the swerving wind,
howling like lost, godless ashes
to the buoyant blackness of the sea
arborists stalk the forests
on a path of needed blood as we speak,
and the thin conscious effort eludes me;
a fragile feather to the death of ocean;
our paths toll and entomb in the despair of frost,
a celestial trial in the capillary precluding loneliness,
it overlooks the sand dunes, and the rocks rived with waves,
a shore and of blood; choose,
darting in its chip of ice,
pouring over teeth,
fetters the lip; layers of respire,
enflamed by loss and suffering.
Death wails alone
not darkened
by the nascent shadow
gazed to the falls of penance
unleashing escape,
deciphering through most eyes
loneliness.
I can only say sorry, mother and father;
I’m sorry.
The slope of the sea twitches like a finch;
an ocean ribs and hollows
worn memory
fallen to the eye
closed to the mosaic evolution
from blue winter to summer, aiutami,
in the death of itself; now it’s dark,
alone, guilt is my slow death.
© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
A/N: My attempt at a slam poem, I guess. Some lines were inspired by Voice of the Soul by Death. A great instrumental for those who enjoy a layering of electric and acoustic guitars. As well for those who listen to music/instrumentals while writing.
26 responses to “Hey.”
The blogosphere has some great poets, but this, this, is one of the best poems I have EVER read!
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Oh wow, I’m beyond happy you think that. I feel so honored. Thank you, thank you so much. ❤️❤️
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I really enjoyed this, as I do all your poetry.
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Aww, thank you! 😊
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This one hit home today really connected to it
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I’m glad, but at the same time, sorry that you’re going through this too. This was a painful poem for me to write so I understand.
Sending hugs. ❤ ❤
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Lucy, “in drought amid / phalanxes / in a littoral crawl”, you mean the Phalanx formation, from ancient Magna Graecia, or the bones of the hands, since in which case their plural would be phalanges and not phalanxes, as in, various phalanges displayed in rowed lines over a coastline, as the strings of a lute but in a desolate, wintry sentiment of irresolution?
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The bones of the hands. I didn’t notice my error. Thank you so much for bringing it to my attention! 😃 I’m going to fix that.
Thank you for reading. ❤️❤️
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Oh, wasn’t an error, Lucy, their meaning can be interchangeable; I just wanted to better understand what I was visualizing. Thank you so much for clarifying.
Awesome composition, as usual!
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Thank you so much! ❤️❤️
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What an enthralling read. Your work is class apart
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Oh, thank you so much my friend. Thank you.
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My absolute pleasure
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❤
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I will listen, thank you for the writing.
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Aww, thank you. ❤ ❤
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Haha, I am listening now, and I hear you…
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Heavy with emotion. Beautiful writing Lucy🌼
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Thank you so much!
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Hi! I’ve nominated you for the liebster award. Please check the link below!
https://keepupwithkamya.wordpress.com/2020/05/31/7-in-1/
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Thank you! 🙂
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You’re welcome! 🙂
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Always write for yourself – do not get caught up in ‘being a poet’, First and foremost, express yourself, enjoy the process and enjoy creating something. You writing will change as you get older, life experience, different styles. Just enjoy it and if others like, great, if they don’t, that is also fine. I will be honest, I have seen people write three lines that a five year could write and get 80 likes or so. People liking your work is no barometer of talent, just a nice bonus when they connect with it.
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Beautiful, beautiful advice. I wish I could share it to everyone here. Very true about the writing process; it really is for the writer to grow and it truly is something if others are able to connect with it. If not, it’s still something I can enjoy and even re-shape as time passes. Thank you so much for your comment. It is very appreciated!
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Wow, a powerful piece full of emotion!
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Thank you!
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