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Poetrymann β Solitude
Published: 2010-09-01 14:05:38 +0000 UTC; Views: 4314; Favourites: 158; Downloads: 34
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Description
Leave him to his solitudewhere the light bulb lurches
over the bed
making love to the dark
huddled against the ceiling
and the blankets all are beaten
like wayward apologies.
Let the clock by his pillow
break the sad news
and tally the lies
of her comings
and goings
and their coupling
under the canopy
of weightless flesh
where love once disturbed their sleep
and her arms still ached enough
to break their fall.
For midnight will catch the floor
like it always does
the upwelling of her words
left bristling in the carpet
and send him spilling
in the darkΒ Β
like blistered silk
setting sadly into the dawn -
just another memory
found missing in the morning.
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Comments: 104
It is a terrible affliction. I am glad I kicked the habit.
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I have been consumed in the past. Once only, but very painfully.
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wow, this is beautiful. so much emotion.
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Many thanks - I appreciate it!
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...sigh...what it would be like to be inside your mind as you write...
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*Smiles* Thanks..but it's really not a very pretty place...
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Well...my interest would be to learn from you and not to linger in the pretty part.
Beauty is something that comes from within the mind, heart & soul and without the
mind to take hold of emotions growing in the other two how could this "beauty" come
forth? You write with such candor and vision that I find it hard to believe that
there isn't beauty there...
You are too modest.. . 
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That is very nice of you. I suppose there is beauty - I believe that exists everywhere. But as you probably know yourself, sometimes the process is downright ugly...and tedious...and a host of other negative words.
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Your right...the process is ugly, but unfortunately I don't
think that will ever change. I know from experience that it
hasn't for me. What pleasure I have gained from life, no matter
what it is, has been fought for...and it is tiresome, but even if
I have only held it for moment, known of its existence in a simple
touch, I try to relish what I have for that time.
There have been too many times that I have craved for such beauty
and I have lost it, so I take it when I can and your mind, no matter
the darkness or the ugliness of it can defer me from the fact that
you are a brilliant writer. I only wish that I could muster a tenth of
what you feel and write. It can be so frustrating at times when my
heart and mind are saying one thing inside me and then what comes
out is nothing but garbage. I want to progress in my writing and I
find myself trying to hard, without inspiration and very, very, moody...
Needless to say, I am not in a "happy" place right now, but I hope to get
there..SOON
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I have found (the hard way) that my happy place is most accesible when I least expect it. I also think our problem with happiness is not that we feel we do not deserve it (although some people do feel that way, I suppose), but that we really do not understand happiness at all. We have impossibly high and unrealistic expectations of that emotion.
If I can help in any way, either with your poetry, or to get you through this, just ask.
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You...are a special soul.
I would appreciate the help with my poetry, but I am not sure
where to begin. I feel that if I could get my life in order it
would take the pressure off of my need to produce something that
"I" can accept. I have tried to think back to when writing was easier for
me and even though I was just beginning there was an ease to it all
that I have seem to have lost now. But in saying this I also know that
when things were the worst for me I could still write with passion. Now,
everything is either one extreme or the other or in between and quite
jumbled and confused.
You spoke of your happy place being most accessible when you least
expect it and I think I have known of this, but as of late it hasn't
visited me much. Either way...I am extremely frustrated. Life has changed
greatly for me in so many ways within the past two years that I really
do not know if I am coming or going.. .
Brendan, I thank you for your kindness. It is refreshing and truthfully it
is something that I am not use to. I would appreciate your help, but only
if you have the time and inclination to do so.
Thank you
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I sent you a message...
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Many thanks. I appreciate it!
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Reminds me of a poem that ended, "we cannot waste time - only ourselves."
There's always so much life in your words: lurching; bristling; upswelling; spilling; setting. I feel like I'm on top of a fast-forwarding glacier with every read, tumbling down and down until the geography of my mind is shaped to the patterns of the words.
It's an experience.
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Thanks. I love the sounds words make...
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Thanks very much. I am glad you do!
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Thanks. This one took forever. I tortured it and it tortured me.
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Well...as long as it was reciprocal...
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"and send him spilling
in the dark
like blistered silk
setting sadly into the dawn -
just another memory
found missing in the morning."
Your words are so beautiful.
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That is very nice of you. Thanks!
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This is a both sad and sinister and as always, beautifully written Brendan.
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Thanks. I wonder, in some ways hope, when my work will lose that sinister edge.
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There is a sensuality that runs through most of your work as well. Maybe you should focus more on that?
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Hello!
You have been featured in the 15th edition of Love Lit - please 
Kaz
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I am very glad you like it. It drove me nuts...
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This is so sad in its perfect solitary beauty...
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I appreciate that. many thanks!
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You're welcome.
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I appreciate that. many thanks!
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You're welcome!
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More writing of the highest calibre.
Well done, sir.
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Thanks very much. I do not usually do rewrites, but this one was almost discarded...still not sure about it.
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I appreciate that. many thanks!
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That is very nice of you. i am hoping to self-publish my first book this month.
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