do not.

Posted on by Lucy

centuries dead moon
pretty ladies on the street
by death, clothed with
white snow; winter’s blue water
fingers in stardust, snitching ice red
hinging
as though I had seen, dearest,
your physiognomy of spring,
moved in black craters; (like tall roses),
whisk, whisk,
swaying a face, sun gardened
and unlike, cleaning osprey eggs.
try beyond,
do not turn from me,
twitching your oceanid weeds,
in symmetry twisting
shyness in ice, eyes like elk,
your little hands, moon, oak
lies in something
of the tree.

Written for the dVerse prompt: Today we will write about color from the perspective of a synesthete. Pick one color or several colors. 

I was inspired by E.E. Cummings, particularly with this:

“the way to hump a cow is not
to elevate your tool
but drop a penny in the slot
and bellow like a bool”

Just kidding. I thought I would include that to maybe throw you off. However, I was inspired by E.E. Cummings’ writing style, just not by that poem, which if this intrigues you, you can read it here.

Published by Lucy

"Poetess of darkness"–dVerse community; cat hoarder, guitarist, keyboardist, psych major.

71 thoughts on “do not.”

  3. Not sure what’s going on in the poem, but this passage makes me think it’s about two lovers, which means it’s complicated:
    “do not turn from me,
    twitching your oceanid weeds,
    in symmetry twisting
    shyness in ice, eyes like elk,”
    I especially like “shyness in ice, eyes like elk”

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you. You would be quite right. The narrator addresses their lover–a rift is between them but still the narrator finds their love in the simplest of things. A reminder of what they had/have.

      Liked by 2 people

  12. WOW!!💝 This is absolutely amazing 😀 such arresting imagery that runs deep into the soul and cries out loud. Especially love; “your physiognomy of spring, moved in black craters; (like tall roses), whisk, whisk, swaying a face, sun gardened and unlike, cleaning osprey eggs.”💝

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you so much, Christine. I always look forward to your comments—you’re so sweet and kind. I’m truly honored and flattered. Thank you so very much.

      Like

  18. You channelled your inner cummings, ‘dropped a penny in the slot’, and released a kaleidoscope of chill-tempered colours, Lucy. I particularly love the ‘fingers in stardust, snitching ice red’; ‘your physiognomy of spring / moved in black craters’; and ‘do not turn from me, / twitching your oceanid weeds’. I get the feeling someone’s not happy.

    Liked by 2 people

  21. I love the colors and images. To me, it seemed more elemental than human lovers quarreling. I thought it was supernatural creatures or maybe the earth itself. . . the pretty ladies flowers dead in the winter. . .lots of beautiful phrases.

    But you are so funny with the e.e. cummings remark. 😀

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Now you have me convinced that I should write a sci-fi poem or prose piece. 😀 Thank you so very much as well for the kind words, Merril.

      I’m also glad you liked the E.E. Cummings poem I included. Humor is a necessity, these times especially.

      Liked by 1 person

  24. I dont think i understand the story told in this poem, even after reading some of the comments.
    However i did like the transport from icy cold to
    “swaying a face, sun gardened”
    I liked the warmth and the care in cultivation
    The last line with hands, tree and moon; suggest to me some kind of romance
    Mystifing !!!
    Much💙love

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you, Gillena. I can understand, my poetry is pretty abstract and weird. 😀 Thank you for the kind words and feedback. It’s always appreciated.

      Much love back. ❤

      Like

  25. Here I am at the end of the line. I love any poem that uses “physiognomy”, an underused word. This piece has it’s death rattle, but it does feel different than most of your work–it does play with words ala e.e.cummings. Your wordsmithing is revved up and evident.

    Liked by 2 people

  27. A very beautiful poem that evokes all to the display for a person’s observation. That is what I see, in this work. An observation, as though what is being viewed, is confined in a frame, buried in a canvas. As colors for the imagery, to the shades that express confusion for other parts. Could that person turn from the observer? As it is, in what a person notices to something so unified by colorings, by recognition in what is collected, makes the beautiful details counted. They cannot turn, especially as recognition would become its opposite, when backwards, when once facing the observer.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Oh, thank you so much. This is an interpretation that stuns me, I had never looked at my poem this way. Your perspective fascinates me greatly, have you studied a lot of literature in the past? You seem to pay close attention to the symbolism as an allegory. As well, I always enjoy reading your feedback. Your words and kindness mean a lot to me, thank you so very much.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. You’re welcome for the feedback. 🙂

        I actually have not studied literature in the past. Not in college, at least. Perhaps the one book I did finish, while reading on my own, was Les Miserables. It took me 3 years to read, in its entirety. That novel just greatly influenced me, as I’ve become a great admirer of Hugo’s works.

        Liked by 2 people

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