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Aleksandra

6.03.08 All Night

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Aleksandra

All night, while

my old bones creep

and the scream hits my heart,

musty boxes of memories

are my nightly friend...

Craven sang the song -

one day,

The child had grown and

flown as a bird to the lands -

so far...

 

Years - hard as stones

are a burden on my chest.

You can see them in the lines on my face.

 

Empty promises,

the bitter taste of tears,

open hands await...

mouth full of prayers.

 

" God, let this damned cuckoo

fill her heart and eyes again, and then -

then kill her.

It is dawn.

The musty boxes of memories

can't die in peace...

 

 

 

Ok I must note that this prompt I have done before in the prose prompts. So I used the same ones. I am exercising with this - using the same one story and same one to put in poetry form. So I am not sure how it works - you gonna tell about that :D .

here is the link where the same story is posted.

 

Thank you for reading.

 

Aleksandra


The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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goldenlangur

Hi Aleksandra,

 

I like how you've used the prompts to give another version of your prose piece in this densely imaged poem.

 

As I've noted in the other forum - you convey such anguish and loss - inconsolable and deeply moving.

 

The contrast between the ominous "Craven" and the noisy/singing "Cuckoo", representing the coming of Spring, underlines the pervading sadness in your poem.

 

goldenlangur


goldenlangur

 

 

Even a single enemy is too many and a thousand friends too few - Bhutanese saying.

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Aleksandra

Thank you goldenlangur for your nice words. I try to " play " a little bit with all of this, and it is going hard to me. I like it how you see the contrast between "Craven" and "Cuckoo"

 

Thank you for sharing your thoughts.

 

Aleksandra


The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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