i~
your apothecary holds bottled secrets amongst jars of verdure, in corners where the clattering of the door throws me off balance. i'm pretty sure if i ran my hand across the tree-tops that line your windowsill, i'd find a set of paintbrushes hidden among the roots.
in the dank and the dust, i hear the sirens sing, as the sunlight shafts and each papercut stings my eyes. you tell me to whisper, because names are dangerous things, and that's probably why you keep all your jars unlabelled.
i've seen the world swallow your irises.
or is it your irises that swallow the world?
i've seen the embers dance in your hearth like wild things when you sing
ballads, and stories of kings long dead.
sometimes i wonder why words can't be preserved in jars, but they'll be rotting underground;
graves set in dust, and silver set in stone. time ticks on like a sprightly thing, and faeries of rust are forever spinning through the air.
i watch time heap itself on your shoulders;
when it comes to greek mythology, you like Atlas the best.
ii~
i could play the flute, the lyre and the harp but i could never lull the willows to sleep
like you did. you taught me the names of colours, but you said they were false designs; artifices the brain alluded to for the sake of sanity
for a name's a nameless thing.
'what is the meaning of blue?' you asked. 'what is the meaning of time?
isn't it strange how man struggles to define and devour?
what is the meaning of me? what is the meaning of you?
you could go on a scientific spiel, and yet the definition lingers on.'
like a stray bit of lint, fingering the horizon, or a piece of rope tied to a precipice. i watch you dangle heartache into the horizon like it's a flightless thing, and you say some secrets are better left unnamed, slowly withering to fragments underground.
shelves and shelves and shelves line the stone, laden with glass domes and mossy tombs.
jars and jars and jars of humanity; you are their keeper. but you keep all the bottles
unlabelled.
words cannot define
words, you say.
definitions cannot define
definitions.
you cannot write with ink, on itself, and your instruments cannot
travel circles.
names are meanings, meanings we try to shrink in a way that doesn't hurt us. labels and jar bottles that grow
smaller with every passing season--
humanity strives for clarity, attaining nothing at all.
perhaps it is for that reason that we remain
nameless.
iii~
you once taught me that everything in this world is caught up within similarity; i confused fire with lust and the sky with freedom. you told me the physical world is blinded, and you taught me to close my eyes the proper way. 'clarity's a myth,' you said; 'a dying song. in a world that always devours how can
anything
be clear?
clarity's a name, for a name, for an abstract thought, but that isn't half of what clarity's meant to be.
clarity is unclear. like you. like me. clarity's a smudged sign in rain.'
we travel circles as the dust around us settles on loose pages, and the wind whisks the embossed lettering away. dog-eared manuscripts and stories the world was never meant to hear;
you don't bother catching them, naming them, or letting the words settle.
it's a wild world out here.
we're a wild world.
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
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Original Text:
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125,007 Literary Works • 672,817 Reviews
I wonder who the person being addressed is—a mentor, a part of yourself, a deity, a fabrication? Anyway, this was enjoyable to read and I like that your theme is identifiable and consistent.
Here are some thoughts I had.
In an opener, here is what I look for:
1. does it hook me? (shock value);
2. is it an essential part of the poem as a whole?; and
3. do I gain some understanding of what the poem will explore?
Your first sentence is pleasing aesthetically but I would hesitate to call it essential (in this section, at least—its ideas would likely fit more naturally into the second or third sections) and it certainly does not advance my knowledge of the poem's theme. The second stanza, in fact, might serve as a stronger introduction.
I don't know what this is saying; every time I reach it I get caught up in its vagueness. Please clarify or remove.
I wonder if the first two lines could be modified to show his passion's effect on you (rather than the passive "I've seen") to enforce the causal relationship, to the effect of:
he is passionate with words—>[I am affected by his passion]—>I want to preserve his words.
I have mixed feelings because I don't know if this is necessary. The idea of time decaying words has already been excavated and I can't help but feel as though introducing a new perspective (his) at the end is overcomplicating things. A comparison made by the narrator, rather than a presentation of his opinion, might be more functional.
Again, not sure what to think of this. It seems like you're scattershooting here and there's no clear representation of the poem's theme, as far as I can tell.
Here is how I would rework this:
false designs, artifices the brain alludes to for the sake of sanity; a name, you said,/is a nameless thing.
"Devour" is totally out of place here. Think of another verb.
Fingering, no.
This should be two lines, not four.
This is something that belongs in a blog post or an essay. Don't abandon your poetic subtlety or grace for the sake of explicitness.
Really jarring; try "perhaps this is the reason/we'll continue to be nameless."
In what way is it a dying song? How is a dying song equal to a myth?
I hope this was helpful for you. If you do end up revising this, shoot me a pm or something and I'd be happy to take another look.
Just an observation : you use a LOT of plurals.
Did you notice that? (I've seen this in your other poems too)
Strangely enough, I hadn't.
Weird, though.
idk, it kind of makes the poem beautiful
but like all things - don't overdo it
I'll keep an eye out for it; thanks!
Hi! First of all I'd like to say I was entranced by this from the first few words and the concept of names never fully or truly describing anything is interesting and original, as is the way you exposed it. The descriptions are perfect and they explain very well the intriguing place while creating an atmosphere of mystery and calm.
"we travel circles as the dust around us settles on loose pages, and the wind whisks the embossed lettering away. dog-eared manuscripts and stories the world was never meant to hear;
you don't bother catching them, naming them, or letting the words settle."
This is my favorite part, I find this to be very, very well written and inspiring.
As for the flaws:
"as the sunlight shafts in like papercuts stinging my eyes."
This isn't quite clear, and I think removing "in" would make it less confusing.
"when it comes to greek mythology, you like Atlas the best."
I do know Atlas is the titan of astronomy and navigation who held the celestial spheres, but I do not think that sentence belongs there, as before you were describing something else entirely.
"names are meanings, meanings we try to shrink in a way that doesn't hurt us. labels and jar bottles that grow
smaller with every passing season--"
The flow here is cut by dividing "grow" and "smaller", and you could unite them like:
"names are meanings, meanings we try to shrink in a way that doesn't hurt us.
labels and jar bottles that grow smaller with every passing season--"
And that's it!
Keep writing, Segreto.