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Dirt


Aleksandra

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Aleksandra

..........................Sweetheart,

I see your eyes

....watching a different sky,

........a sweetness in another sphere.

And me –

....I’m down here, sunk in mud

........with a choking throat, like a dying ember;

I refuse to cry.

....But dearest, can’t you picture

........my wrinkled skin, my topsy-turvy mind

........and the deserted fields, where I walk alone

....in silence, moving as

a moon at night?

..........................Rote, pain even more --

........should I remember your name

when I’m in my grave?

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

History of Macedonia

 

 

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A dark and fascinating journey, well crafted and filled with the kind of images that fire the poetic imagination.

 

Rote, pain even more --

threw me, not because it is incorrect, but because it is rarely used in modern american english. Still a good word choice, although I wonder if there may be a better one (?) Hmmm, will think on it...

 

Man am I tired, and on the only day I care about in this consumer season icon_eek.gif The eve, as it were;-)

 

May you all bask in potential!

 

DC

thegateless.org Come on over and check out my poetry substack y'all;-) Or if your bored, head to the Zazzle store: https://www.zazzle.com/store/gateless. If you buy anything I lose a bet, so consider that before you violate the digital rules.

 

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Aleksandra

Thank you Dr.Con for your best wishes, and sorry that you are tired. But you will handle with all of that, I am sure ;).

 

About the word " Rote " you mean? Yes it is strange, but means exactly what I want to say here. So yes, maybe there is better word too, but for me, exactly that fact that is not so common - modern word, made me to use the same one. So always there is option for better words and so on, and also, always the poem can be better and better, right? So we are here to work, and work - and enjoy of course :).

 

Thank you for your thoughts. They make me think, and they give me energy to work more.

 

Enjoy the holidays DC.

 

Aleksandra

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

History of Macedonia

 

 

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As usual, your poem is packed with fresh imagery and expressions, Alek. The eyes of the beloved watching a different sky/a sweetness in another sphere, is juxtaposed with the narrator being sunk in mud/with a choking throat, like a dying ember. Nevertheless, there's a defiance exhibited by the narrator when she declares, "I refuse to cry."

 

This part is especially lovely:

....
But
dearest
, can’t you picture

........
my wrinkled skin, my topsy-turvy mind

........
and the deserted fields, where I walk alone

....
in silence, moving as

a moon at night?

I like your unusual choice of the archaic but somehow strong Anglo-Saxon word rote. I think it adds to the poem's overall strength. I also like how the poem looks on the page/screen; its layout and typography give it the semblance of a letter.

 

The title is powerful. After all, dirt is what is used to fill the grave mentioned in the last line.

 

Tony

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

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goldenlangur

Hello Aleksandra,

 

 

What a bitter-sweet tone your poem has, full of ironic twists and turns of images and their resonance. There's a pervading sense that everything that ought to be comforting, edifying and beautiful is tainted with darkness and melancholy:

 

 

 

The poem is a poignant dirge-like reflection.

I see your eyes

....
watching a different sky,

........
a sweetness in another sphere.

And me –

....
I’m down here, sunk in mud

........
with a choking throat, like a dying ember;

 

 

And also:

 

Rote, pain even more --

........
should I remember your name

when I’m in my grave?

 

 

The final question is unanswerable and embodies the sorrowful leitmotif of the poem.

 

 

 

Magnificent and quite unforgettable.

 

 

goldenlangur

goldenlangur

 

 

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

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Melancholy. I find these two lines are striking:

 

watching a different sky,

 

moving as

a moon at night?

 

Well done.

 

Lake

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Aleksandra
As usual, your poem is packed with fresh imagery and expressions, Alek. The eyes of the beloved watching a different sky/a sweetness in another sphere, is juxtaposed with the narrator being sunk in mud/with a choking throat, like a dying ember. Nevertheless, there's a defiance exhibited by the narrator when she declares, "I refuse to cry."

 

This part is especially lovely:

....
But
dearest
, can't you picture

........
my wrinkled skin, my topsy-turvy mind

........
and the deserted fields, where I walk alone

....
in silence, moving as

a moon at night?

I like your unusual choice of the archaic but somehow strong Anglo-Saxon word rote. I think it adds to the poem's overall strength. I also like how the poem looks on the page/screen; its layout and typography give it the semblance of a letter.

 

The title is powerful. After all, dirt is what is used to fill the grave mentioned in the last line.

 

Tony

 

Tony thank you for yours, always beautiful words, and I must say, thank you for your help of choosing the title ;), glad that you explained your thoughts about. I share your thought for the word rote Tony, it works the same for me, thats why I used the same.

 

PS: I am still on the way to make some metrical poem Tony icon_biggrin.png ;). But not this year, but the next one icon_razz.gif

 

Aleksandra

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

History of Macedonia

 

 

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Aleksandra
Hello Aleksandra,

 

 

What a bitter-sweet tone your poem has, full of ironic twists and turns of images and their resonance. There's a pervading sense that everything that ought to be comforting, edifying and beautiful is tainted with darkness and melancholy:

 

The poem is a poignant dirge-like reflection.

I see your eyes

....
watching a different sky,

........
a sweetness in another sphere.

And me –

....
I'm down here, sunk in mud

........
with a choking throat, like a dying ember;

And also:

 

Rote, pain even more --

........
should I remember your name

when I'm in my grave?

The final question is unanswerable and embodies the sorrowful leitmotif of the poem.

 

Magnificent and quite unforgettable.

 

 

goldenlangur

 

Goldenlangur, like always, I love your interpretation of the poems of others. Thank you for your compliments on my poem. I am satisfied with your comment. Glad that this poem took your attention as well.

 

ALeksandra

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

History of Macedonia

 

 

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Aleksandra
Melancholy. I find these two lines are striking:

 

watching a different sky,

 

moving as

a moon at night?

 

Well done.

 

Lake

 

Thank you Lake. Glad the poem works for you ;). Those lines are the inspiration for the poem.

 

Aleksandra

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

History of Macedonia

 

 

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The most painful line for me

 

watching a different sky

 

argh!

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

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too many poems to read here, and i couldn't decide which one to read first!

 

I see your eyes

watching a different sky,

a sweetness in another sphere.

 

while reading these first three verses, suddenly a song came in my mind which has the lyrics like below:

 

See the mirror in your eyes;

See the truth behind your lies

Your lies are haunting me

See the reason in your eyes

Giving answer to the why:

Your eyes are haunting me!

-Armin Van Buuren

 

i don't know why did it happen but reading you poem several times, i couldn't get ride of this song from my brain. it is automatically playing in my mind continuously!

 

certainly a great work, Alek!

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Aleksandra

Hello Bloodyday. Nice to see you around again.

Thank you for reading this poem and commenting. Yes many poems were posted here while you weren't here. Isn't that nice? I am happy because of that.

 

Glad you like this poem my friend.

 

Aleksandra

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

History of Macedonia

 

 

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i was thinking to myself - now when i write a message to alex, which stanza shall i choose as my favorite, the one that stood out the most - and then i realized that the whole poem is so beautifully linked. it flows effortlessly from image to image and thought/feeling to thought/feeling. it is soft, melancholy, romantic, stark and lovely all at the same time!

 

very well written, one of your best in my opinion!

 

thank you my dear!

 

 

icon_smile.gif

To receive love, you have to give it...

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But dearest, can’t you picture

my wrinkled skin, my topsy-turvy mind

and the deserted fields, where I walk alone

 

lovely evocative lines Aleks

 

badge icon_biggrin.png

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Aleksandra
i was thinking to myself - now when i write a message to alex, which stanza shall i choose as my favorite, the one that stood out the most - and then i realized that the whole poem is so beautifully linked. it flows effortlessly from image to image and thought/feeling to thought/feeling. it is soft, melancholy, romantic, stark and lovely all at the same time!

 

very well written, one of your best in my opinion!

 

thank you my dear!

 

 

icon_smile.gif

 

Ah sweet Doug :D . Look at you, how handsome you look in Australia :) .

Thank you for your lovely comment. I am pleased that you think that this poem is one of my best.

 

Nice to have you around dear Douglas.

 

Aleksandra

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

History of Macedonia

 

 

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Aleksandra
But dearest, can't you picture

my wrinkled skin, my topsy-turvy mind

and the deserted fields, where I walk alone

 

lovely evocative lines Aleks

 

badge icon_biggrin.png

 

Thanks badge. Thank you for the wonderful expression for my lines.

 

I am happy reading all your wonderful comments.

 

Aleksandra

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

History of Macedonia

 

 

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