Aleksandra Posted May 19, 2009 Share Posted May 19, 2009 You call my eyes to the west where the devils dance. I am calling you here, where the food grows. Here, in the south, my grandmother met her love in a field, where the sweat made a river of their faces, and the winter ate their bones. Come here, to my land, where the graves of my ancestors are. Come, listen to the echo of the crying and pain from their time. I will show you only one view from the crest of the mountain – it’s enough for you to touch my soul, to learn why I am sad, to learn why, before sleeping, my heart screams in pain, and why I smile to the stones when you say my name. Come. Come to the South -- touch the ground, and listen to my heartbeat. 1 The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau History of Macedonia Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bloodyday Posted May 19, 2009 Share Posted May 19, 2009 No, I won’t return Rather I enjoy the sun blazing Through the heat coated glass Sitting on air-conditioned crouch! You know South makes wine tasty And we make it the worthy goods. Love becomes a trade here or either The sense of humor that lasts a very little! Though my love is far apart, I know I would recall it sitting on my balcony. My mirror is still not fade And so is my soul. I can talk to the souls of my ancestors Every night when loneliness Dazzles my senses like a doll. Here, every pavement haunts Their emptiness they possess in corporate conspiracy. No feelings attached, No longing for serendipity As I lost something long before I got loneliness with urban apathy instead. No, I won’t! * i don't know whether i got the contrast of the opposite thought or not!if not, i will be.................. RoNy Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Larsen M. Callirhoe Posted May 19, 2009 Share Posted May 19, 2009 hi aleks, i like this very chilling the way uyou perceive generations and death. i also like the bone chilling sentiments in your poem. vic Larsen M. Callirhoe Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Lake Posted May 19, 2009 Share Posted May 19, 2009 Hi Alex, This is a emotionally charged poem. The lines: and why I smile to the stones when you say my name. piercing. A powerful poem. Thanks for the read. Lake Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tinker Posted May 19, 2009 Share Posted May 19, 2009 Hi Aleks, Using the compass to direct our emotions is quite wonderful. Aleksandra wrote: the west where the devils dance and Aleksandra wrote: in the south where my grandmother met her love in the field where the sweat made a river of their faces I love the imagery. ~~Tink ~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~ For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
goldenlangur Posted May 19, 2009 Share Posted May 19, 2009 Hello Aleksandra, The striking imagery in your poem suggests a stepping back in time in history - a reliving of the suffering, hardship and dreams and spirits broken: "Here, in the south, my grandmother met her love in a field, where the sweat made a river of their faces,' Also: "...the winter ate their bones. Come here, to my land, where the graves of my ancestors are. Come, listen to the echo of the crying and pain from their time." There's a sense that this haunts and pervades the poet's present and the legacy of pain endures. "...why, before sleeping, my heart screams in pain, and why I smile to the stones when you say my name.." This pull between the present (the west) and the past (south) is brought out wonderfully here: "You call my eyes to the west where the devils dance" And: "Come. Come to the South -- touch the ground, and listen to my heartbeat." Perhaps mistakenly I imagine the narrator's voice as that of someone who confronts two conflicting interpretations of history and is wrought with the burden of the past. Poignant and powerful writing. goldenlangur goldenlangur Even a single enemy is too many and a thousand friends too few - Bhutanese saying. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tonyv Posted May 19, 2009 Share Posted May 19, 2009 Alek, you accomplish a remarkable feat in this fine poem by expertly blending two very different kinds of love. A notable love of country is present throughout, but there is also a hint of a romantic love. From the very beginning of the poem, the geographical references allude to the vast distances which play a key role in separating the narrator from another person: You call my eyes to the west where the devils dance. I am calling you here, where the food grows. "West" and "east" are terms usually used to refer to two very different and distant worlds. However, there is another world, the one where her ... grandmother met her love in a field, where the sweat made a river of their faces, and the winter ate their bones, and she, once again, summons this other person there, to "the south": Come here, to my land, where the graves of my ancestors are. The narrator's sense of her culture is deeply ingrained. She is aware that her land, though beautiful, has a hard history: Come, listen to the echo of the crying and pain from their time. I will show you only one view from the crest of the mountain – it’s enough for you to touch my soul, to learn why I am sad ... She invites her loved one to learn why, before sleeping, my heart screams in pain, and why I smile to the stones when you say my name. The stones are hard. They are ancient, like the name of the poet, and I will say it now: ALEKSANDRA. Perhaps it is only the rare reader who would detect a romantic undercurrent in this poem. After all, there is no direct reference to love of another person, and the narrator could be addressing the multitudes. Nevertheless, to this reader the connection is obvious: Come. Come to the South -- touch the ground, and listen to my heartbeat. I hear it now. I hope that someday I will. Tony Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aleksandra Posted May 19, 2009 Author Share Posted May 19, 2009 No, I won't returnRather I enjoy the sun blazing Through the heat coated glass Sitting on air-conditioned crouch! You know South makes wine tasty And we make it the worthy goods. Love becomes a trade here or either The sense of humor that lasts a very little! Though my love is far apart, I know I would recall it sitting on my balcony. My mirror is still not fade And so is my soul. I can talk to the souls of my ancestors Every night when loneliness Dazzles my senses like a doll. Here, every pavement haunts Their emptiness they possess in corporate conspiracy. No feelings attached, No longing for serendipity As I lost something long before I got loneliness with urban apathy instead. No, I won't! * i don't know whether i got the contrast of the opposite thought or not!if not, i will be.................. RoNy RoNy, thank you so much for your comment. You express your feelings for some other's poetry on very interesting and good way. Thank you. Aleksandra The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau History of Macedonia Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aleksandra Posted May 19, 2009 Author Share Posted May 19, 2009 hi aleks, i like this very chilling the way you perceive generations and death. i also like the bone chilling sentiments in your poem. vic Vic, glad you like the bone chilling sentiments here. That is hard word to write or to read, I mean for my sentiment when I wrote that. Thanks my friend Aleksandra The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau History of Macedonia Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aleksandra Posted May 19, 2009 Author Share Posted May 19, 2009 Hi Alex, This is a emotionally charged poem. The lines: and why I smile to the stones when you say my name. piercing. A powerful poem. Thanks for the read. Lake You are welcome Lake. I really wanted to see what others have to say about this poem. I am happy if you think that the poem is emotionally charged. Aleksandra The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau History of Macedonia Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aleksandra Posted May 19, 2009 Author Share Posted May 19, 2009 Hi Aleks, Using the compass to direct our emotions is quite wonderful. Aleksandra wrote: the west where the devils dance and Aleksandra wrote: in the south where my grandmother met her love in the field where the sweat made a river of their faces I love the imagery. ~~Tink Tinker, that was my intention, to provoke the reader to look some more far... Thank you for comment Tink. Aleksandra The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau History of Macedonia Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aleksandra Posted May 19, 2009 Author Share Posted May 19, 2009 Hello Aleksandra, The striking imagery in your poem suggests a stepping back in time in history - a reliving of the suffering, hardship and dreams and spirits broken: "Here, in the south, my grandmother met her love in a field, where the sweat made a river of their faces,' Also: "...the winter ate their bones. Come here, to my land, where the graves of my ancestors are. Come, listen to the echo of the crying and pain from their time." There's a sense that this haunts and pervades the poet's present and the legacy of pain endures. "...why, before sleeping, my heart screams in pain, and why I smile to the stones when you say my name.." This pull between the present (the west) and the past (south) is brought out wonderfully here: "You call my eyes to the west where the devils dance" And: "Come. Come to the South -- touch the ground, and listen to my heartbeat." Perhaps mistakenly I imagine the narrator's voice as that of someone who confronts two conflicting interpretations of history and is wrought with the burden of the past. Poignant and powerful writing. goldenlangur Goldenlangur hi. How much I love your interpretation of this poem. It happened before also, that when I read your comment, it makes me to think how the poem really can have that sense inside. Really makes wonderful sense that way how you felt this poem, especially here: present (the west) and the past (south) - really I loved how it sounds with that sound. And here: Perhaps mistakenly I imagine the narrator's voice as that of someone who confronts two conflicting interpretations of history and is wrought with the burden of the past. you imagine very good. It is talking about the burden of the past. GL thank you so much for your careful read. Aleksandra The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau History of Macedonia Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aleksandra Posted May 19, 2009 Author Share Posted May 19, 2009 Alek, you accomplish a remarkable feat in this fine poem by expertly blending two very different kinds of love. A notable love of country is present throughout, but there is also a hint of a romantic love. From the very beginning of the poem, the geographical references allude to the vast distances which play a key role in separating the narrator from another person: You call my eyes to the west where the devils dance. I am calling you here, where the food grows. "West" and "east" are terms usually used to refer to two very different and distant worlds. However, there is another world, the one where her ... grandmother met her love in a field, where the sweat made a river of their faces, and the winter ate their bones, and she, once again, summons this other person there, to "the south": Come here, to my land, where the graves of my ancestors are. The narrator's sense of her culture is deeply ingrained. She is aware that her land, though beautiful, has a hard history: Come, listen to the echo of the crying and pain from their time. I will show you only one view from the crest of the mountain – it's enough for you to touch my soul, to learn why I am sad ... She invites her loved one to learn why, before sleeping, my heart screams in pain, and why I smile to the stones when you say my name. The stones are hard. They are ancient, like the name of the poet, and I will say it now: ALEKSANDRA. Perhaps it is only the rare reader who would detect a romantic undercurrent in this poem. After all, there is no direct reference to love of another person, and the narrator could be addressing the multitudes. Nevertheless, to this reader the connection is obvious: Come. Come to the South -- touch the ground, and listen to my heartbeat. I hear it now. I hope that someday I will. Tony Tony, with this comment you almost made me cry. How powerful read of my poem. I am very honored by your words. You explained my poem in details as you wrote this. Yes, this poem is somehow patriotic, inspired by the hard history of my country, and from the present events here, specially provoked by one of our neighbors country. Thank you for your loudly saying my name dear Tony. That hits my heart, because I am proud being Macedonian. And on the end you said something - You answered something to which I alluded in this poem. You are always welcome, and that way you will feel, not only understand,what I am talking about in this poem. So you found the right point Tony. I am pleased by your comment. Thank you very much. You are really wonderful Aleksandra The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau History of Macedonia Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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