This Summer

[JoelJosol]

Do not look

in the direction of my desk,

it is as cold as where you are.

 

You will not find traces

of the chill

descending on my skin

 

only an empty table-

phone, pad, and pen

removed;

 

the rest I stowed

inside a metal cabinet,

away from this shivering air.

 

When I return

like a summer wind

to kiss your sweating brows,

 

I will count

the things our cold weather

let remain.

[Aleksandra]

Very touching Joel.This poem has melancholic tone, I felt some depression and pain. But very good way, the hope comes at right time.

 

I like it a lot. The first stanza it is very well expressed.

 

Thank you for sharing

 

Aleksandra

[tonyv]

JoelJosol wrote:

 

When I return this summer,

I promise to start over,

to rediscover myself,

 

and to count

the things that survived

our cold weather.

Is time apart the answer, Joel? I tend to think not; I see it as the beginning of the end. When it comes to relationships, I think it's best to confront things and to work them out.

 

Tony

[goldenlangur]

Hello JoelJosol,

 

Every image suggests the silent suffering of the narrator. With no communication, he is left to read the significance of the atmosphere of the room and the objects becomes imbued with his pervading sense of clutching at straws, trying to make sense of what can be done.

 

But as Tony rightly observes, ultimately one gets a sense that it may indeed be beyond words and reconciliation.

 

 

JoelJosol wrote:

 

only an empty table-

phone, pad, and pen

removed,

 

...

and to count

the things that survived

our cold weather.

 

goldenlangur

[JoelJosol]

Thank you, aleks, tony, and GL. It is indeed the thought in the poem. I changed the poem into a positive spin by replacing the fifth stanza's declaration with an imagery.

[JoelJosol]

I am putting a revision of this poem in the workshop forum.