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The Storms Between


dr_con

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The Storms Between

 

Not being able to quiet the water

is part of our problem in this storm

I have become accustomed to skirting

edges standing in doorways as the rain

falls thoughts rise up anxiety pools across

streets we strolled reconfiguring safe passes

into dark roads that barely seem familiar

although our circumstances remain

when it stops and the sun washes

new the unknowable indefinable

place we will re-name home.

Gate(less.thumb.png.dc23b19d2478d37a9f6fcdc563973026.pnghttps://conjurd.substack.com/welcome Come on over and check out my poetry substack y'all;-)

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Larsen M. Callirhoe

if only we could find solace and truth comfort sheltering us or weathering us from all the storms thrown at us in life. hey an easier metaphor for me to chew at on this one or i am becoming more aware in my vocabulary or is it richer that yo'll have made me in thoughts. well inked penned poem my poet friend. well done! much enjoyed wadding through this also.

 

victor

Larsen M. Callirhoe

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A cleverly worded piece which offers a lesson in metaphor well worth noting. I particularly liked, "I have become accustomed to skirting

edges standing in doorways as the rain

falls"

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I, too, very much like the part that Benjamin points out. The speaker is probably not a homeless person, but in some way he is like one. He stands in doorways as the rain/falls. He does it often. He is somehow beholden to others if only for the temporary shelter he obtains from their doorways, unbeknownst to them.

 

Reads like the story of my life. Rain or shine, the "circumstances" "remain." I love it.

 

Tony

Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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Thanks for this. As someone accustomed to flash floods during our rainy season and had waded on them trying to recall the configuration of the street, the sidewalks, the manholes, I can relate both at the physical and metaphorical. Although "not being able to quiet the water", the human spirit pushes through with whatever is left of what the speaker of the poem will "re-name home".

"Words are not things, and yet they are not non-things either." - Ann Lauterbach

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The tragedy that puts them in the doorway for shelter does not have to be rain and floods, although the causes may be the same. Seeking shelter in a doorway is near the end of helplessness. Been there. Survival comes first. Thank you, Doc. A metaphor of the mind could also be appropriate. Makes me think of an alcove in the middle of the night.

fdh

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JJ, Tony, fdh- Thank you for your kind comments... I appreciate the feedback and am thrilled by you getting it;-) really it was a personal poem- @ the moment I'm into torturing metaphors;-) And you all got it;-) Thanks for taking the time!

 

Juris & Dr. Con

Gate(less.thumb.png.dc23b19d2478d37a9f6fcdc563973026.pnghttps://conjurd.substack.com/welcome Come on over and check out my poetry substack y'all;-)

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