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All Night


Aleksandra

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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...

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

History of Macedonia

 

 

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goldenlangur

Hello Aleksandra,

 

You paint such a desolate landscape - emotional and physical here. I like how you've extended the prose piece into this poem saturated with images of pain and loneliness. One gets a sense of inconsolable sadness, where "musty boxes of memories" are the narrator's sole link to life. This is very well drawn out here:

 

aleksandra wrote:

All night, while

my old bones creep

and the scream hits my heart,

musty boxes of memories

are my nightly friend...

 

The contrast between the ominous "Craven" and the singing/noisy "Cuckoo" brings out this mental and physical distancing of the person from all normal relations and participation in life. The Craven's caws seem to unleash memories of the child leaving the home, never to return. All the parent is left with is a pervading sense of what might have been - "Empty promises". Even tears and prayers cannot bring respite from this pain and loss. But one reads an existential anguish beyond the personal in this dark poem

 

Your recent work, including this poem shows an incredible depth of feelings and thoughts. I hope your Muse continues to bless you.

goldenlangur

 

 

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

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Lying awake with bad memories without the distractions of the day. Especially like how you use the 'birds' in your poem Aleks.

 

You can see them in the lines on my face.

 

But you have such a young face icon_biggrin.png

 

badge icon_biggrin.png

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Aleksandra
Hello Aleksandra,

 

You paint such a desolate landscape - emotional and physical here. I like how you've extended the prose piece into this poem saturated with images of pain and loneliness. One gets a sense of inconsolable sadness, where "musty boxes of memories" are the narrator's sole link to life. This is very well drawn out here:

aleksandra wrote:

All night, while

my old bones creep

and the scream hits my heart,

musty boxes of memories

are my nightly friend...

 

The contrast between the ominous "Craven" and the singing/noisy "Cuckoo" brings out this mental and physical distancing of the person from all normal relations and participation in life. The Craven's caws seem to unleash memories of the child leaving the home, never to return. All the parent is left with is a pervading sense of what might have been - "Empty promises". Even tears and prayers cannot bring respite from this pain and loss. But one reads an existential anguish beyond the personal in this dark poem

 

Your recent work, including this poem shows an incredible depth of feelings and thoughts. I hope your Muse continues to bless you.

 

goldenlangur

 

Thank you goldenlangur I really like how you express the feelings on this poem. The song of craven is heard before the child says " goodbye " . So that is like prediction for bad happening. I am better when I write "dark" poetry or any kind of texts thank the wild and shiny icon_smile.gif. ( at least I feel like that, that I am better with those subjects icon_rolleyes.gif )

 

Thank you so much for your comment, and yes muses works sometime a lot, but sometime icon_eek.gif ... But thats ok icon_smile.gif

 

Aleksandra

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

History of Macedonia

 

 

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Aleksandra
Not bad.

Instaed of " damned ".....I'd say "cute" icon_silent.png

 

Ah "cute" icon_smile.gif ?

 

Thank you for reading and for the comment pawn shop

 

Aleksandra icon_smile.gif

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

History of Macedonia

 

 

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Aleksandra
Lying awake with bad memories without the distractions of the day. Especially like how you use the 'birds' in your poem Aleks.

 

You can see them in the lines on my face.

 

But you have such a young face icon_biggrin.png

 

badge icon_biggrin.png

 

Badge my friend, you are always so kind, thank you. But that sentence I think we gonna say one day - all of us icon_neutral.gif

 

Thanks badge

 

Aleksandra

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

History of Macedonia

 

 

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As always, Alek, I love your expressions --

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...

 

I don't picture the narrator as someone old. I picture her as someone grown weary -- old before her time. icon_neutral.gif

 

Tony

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

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Aleksandra

Thank you Tony for your comment and I like it your way of reading. Yes that can be truth. However the narrator can be old - for sure is older than she really is - because of all sadness in her life.

 

Thank yyou for sharing your views

 

Aleksandra

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

History of Macedonia

 

 

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