I slept ember far too long;
woke up where I don’t belong.
Gilt and gold are all I find,
some migrant Midas left behind.
I walk tober through the park;
scarlet billows, like a shark
prowls through fog and rips through limbs,
shredding hymnals into hymns.
I know vember very well;
rumors that I can’t dispel.
Cultivating our eclipse,
scent of spirits on her lips.
6 comments:
"shredding hymnals into hymns" -- I love that imagery, also the wordplay of the title.
I wrote a poem yesterday, (it's crap) and it kept wanting to rhyme. I kept smacking the rhyme out of it, maybe it would've been better to have let the rhyme overtake it, I'm not sure, but I do know that the rhyme in this, Joaquin, works. Well.
There is a playfulness in your approach to words (such as the title, and your words, "tober" and "vember") that grows a poem into something broader, wider, more beautiful.
I, too, love the playfulness of this...slept ember, walk tober, know vember, and all of the accompanying images are fun and whimsical. This is such a delight, I just want to read it again and again.
THAT is a very crafty piece. And YOU are a very crafty writer!
Vic
Every stanza presents a little tease of a story which was, perhaps, the spur for each verse? Sharp images and clever writing has been a hallmark of yours - and this work is no exception, I am freshly captivated by its wit.
"shredding hymnals into hymns."
I am jealous of this line.
Such a delightful piece :)
Awesome and intriguing. I especially love that second stanza. As Terresa says, the line "shredding hymnals into hymns" is excellent. Have a beautiful Thanksgiving, Joaquin!
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