The letter B has become optical, its shape
Reflecting your glasses. The negative spaces
Have turned to nests, cupping your carved eyes
That death dropped in flight –
It is the spine of a thick Steinbeck that
Stares from my shelf, rods and cones
Bound in the same gray and blue hues of the
Walls of your study. The armchair is fully plaid
By the bedroom window. I sit on the edge of your
Side, a riverine stone. It is too neatly made.
It is too still, that black lion – How it fakes breaking
To a clap of your laughter when my eyes close.
Let me rebuild you, if only for a day. A green spreader
Spilling chalky beads, six cigars stuck as candles,
Hissing their sweet smoke into the air. And now a
Yellow rose from your gray feet, a bloom that blew the
Stars to misalignment with its extreme beam of color.
It must be a monstrous thing, that black vulture.
Always suckling my shadow, the anvil that slept
On my coattails for a summer. It must be to have
Lifted your marble body, wings of sopped tissues,
Taut, carrying you away, away.
No one stands steady in the gust you had
Blocked, my colossus. What a disoriented dynasty,
Hair wind-ripped, shocks piled on our heads of fog.
We are Stringing ties and shrouding ourselves in
Your shirts to cry. Son, Daughter,
Wife. Robbed twice in two years, she felt you
Today. My grandmother, chipped from emerald,
Holding onto your cane. Her sparkle stalls for a
Moment or two, your jewel of all jewels. Channeling with
A wooden avenue, but there are so, so many pieces of you,
So I put back your eyes, softly on your desk next
To maps, ships, busts. The hung sunset to my
Back. Our shaken give-and-take will survive you,
I’ve decided. I will borrow your Shakespeare, your last
Living loan to me.
A molten slide of gold is filling the footsteps
Of a storm and I see it is you, and I am silver,
Sentinel of debris. The black lion stirring on its
Stylobate at the summit of a mountain of books.
Tumbleweed. History. Yes, that is what you will be.
© 2015 BENJAMIN SMITH
Reflecting your glasses. The negative spaces
Have turned to nests, cupping your carved eyes
That death dropped in flight –
It is the spine of a thick Steinbeck that
Stares from my shelf, rods and cones
Bound in the same gray and blue hues of the
Walls of your study. The armchair is fully plaid
By the bedroom window. I sit on the edge of your
Side, a riverine stone. It is too neatly made.
It is too still, that black lion – How it fakes breaking
To a clap of your laughter when my eyes close.
Let me rebuild you, if only for a day. A green spreader
Spilling chalky beads, six cigars stuck as candles,
Hissing their sweet smoke into the air. And now a
Yellow rose from your gray feet, a bloom that blew the
Stars to misalignment with its extreme beam of color.
It must be a monstrous thing, that black vulture.
Always suckling my shadow, the anvil that slept
On my coattails for a summer. It must be to have
Lifted your marble body, wings of sopped tissues,
Taut, carrying you away, away.
No one stands steady in the gust you had
Blocked, my colossus. What a disoriented dynasty,
Hair wind-ripped, shocks piled on our heads of fog.
We are Stringing ties and shrouding ourselves in
Your shirts to cry. Son, Daughter,
Wife. Robbed twice in two years, she felt you
Today. My grandmother, chipped from emerald,
Holding onto your cane. Her sparkle stalls for a
Moment or two, your jewel of all jewels. Channeling with
A wooden avenue, but there are so, so many pieces of you,
So I put back your eyes, softly on your desk next
To maps, ships, busts. The hung sunset to my
Back. Our shaken give-and-take will survive you,
I’ve decided. I will borrow your Shakespeare, your last
Living loan to me.
A molten slide of gold is filling the footsteps
Of a storm and I see it is you, and I am silver,
Sentinel of debris. The black lion stirring on its
Stylobate at the summit of a mountain of books.
Tumbleweed. History. Yes, that is what you will be.
© 2015 BENJAMIN SMITH
Never can a parting be heavier than if the parting is footsteps is full of gold.. I like how you used words that both signify weight and flight... nice contrast in that. Hope you have time to read and comment on some of the other poetry that have linked up.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your comments, they are appreciated.
DeleteThis time posting I have been hit with a barrage of statements pertaining to my linking of my work but my lack of community participation. Just to make things clear to anyone who happens to read my pieces and notices my absence of comments on others' writing: I work forty hours a week at a job that is mentally taxing and am also a college student. Needless to say, time is not a major luxury of mine. I barely have time to write nowadays. I understand that it is courteous and expected to comment on fellow poets' linked poems, but I cannot help that my daily schedule is either crammed or has wrung me out to a barely-conscious state. I comment when I can. If the powers that be would rather me refrain from linking, then please notify me of this. I do not feel particularly welcome in a group that stresses BEING welcoming to all writers, especially when my internet absence is due to factors of the adult human condition.
-Benjamin Smith
I specially liked the closing lines.. beautifully executed :D
ReplyDeleteThe imagery and the colors add to the depth of sadness here.
ReplyDeleteMy word, you are a phenomenal poet. I LOVE your work!!!
ReplyDeleteThat first stanza. Yum. And this: "How it fakes breaking
To a clap of your laughter when my eyes close."
These:
"It must be a monstrous thing, that black vulture.
Always suckling my shadow"
"there are so, so many pieces of you,
So I put back your eyes"
"Back. Our shaken give-and-take will survive you" ... And then if you read this from the period through to the end and back to the beginning, you get, "Our shaken give-and-take will survive you back."
"I will borrow your Shakespeare, your last
Living loan to me.
A molten slide"
" I see it is you, and I am silver,
Sentinel of debris"
Bravo! Standing O, my friend. Brilliant, exceptional writing.
Thank you so, so much. I am grateful for every word you have said, and I type this with the utmost sincerity.
DeleteA very powerful poem, it leaves me in awe ~
ReplyDeleteIt would be great to see you connecting with the other poets ~
Thanks for sharing ~
Grace
Thank you for your comments, they are appreciated.
DeleteThis time posting I have been hit with a barrage of statements pertaining to my linking of my work but my lack of community participation. Just to make things clear to anyone who happens to read my pieces and notices my absence of comments on others' writing: I work forty hours a week at a job that is mentally taxing and am also a college student. Needless to say, time is not a major luxury of mine. I barely have time to write nowadays. I understand that it is courteous and expected to comment on fellow poets' linked poems, but I cannot help that my daily schedule is either crammed or has wrung me out to a barely-conscious state. I comment when I can. If the powers that be would rather me refrain from linking, then please notify me of this. I do not feel particularly welcome in a group that stresses BEING welcoming to all writers, especially when my internet absence is due to factors of the adult human condition.
-Benjamin Smith
Exceptional write. Hope you will take the time to read and comment on the other poets here. We all have such varied things to share.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your comments, they are appreciated.
DeleteThis time posting I have been hit with a barrage of statements pertaining to my linking of my work but my lack of community participation. Just to make things clear to anyone who happens to read my pieces and notices my absence of comments on others' writing: I work forty hours a week at a job that is mentally taxing and am also a college student. Needless to say, time is not a major luxury of mine. I barely have time to write nowadays. I understand that it is courteous and expected to comment on fellow poets' linked poems, but I cannot help that my daily schedule is either crammed or has wrung me out to a barely-conscious state. I comment when I can. If the powers that be would rather me refrain from linking, then please notify me of this. I do not feel particularly welcome in a group that stresses BEING welcoming to all writers, especially when my internet absence is due to factors of the adult human condition.
-Benjamin Smith
Very well written. some great lines in that poem amidst all that rich feeling... "cupping your carved eyes
ReplyDeleteThat death dropped in flight" stood out for me!
This is really wonderful, your imagery is remarkable and grounded all at once, which seems a perfect balance. Love your style.
ReplyDeleteI see you linking every week, but never see that you comment on others. Sigh.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your comments, they are appreciated.
DeleteThis time posting I have been hit with a barrage of statements pertaining to my linking of my work but my lack of community participation. Just to make things clear to anyone who happens to read my pieces and notices my absence of comments on others' writing: I work forty hours a week at a job that is mentally taxing and am also a college student. Needless to say, time is not a major luxury of mine. I barely have time to write nowadays. I understand that it is courteous and expected to comment on fellow poets' linked poems, but I cannot help that my daily schedule is either crammed or has wrung me out to a barely-conscious state. I comment when I can. If the powers that be would rather me refrain from linking, then please notify me of this. I do not feel particularly welcome in a group that stresses BEING welcoming to all writers, especially when my internet absence is due to factors of the adult human condition.
-Benjamin Smith
A beautiful write. Love your style too.
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]
Well.. my friend.. the trials and tribulations of modern life are great.. particularly for the college student who works 40 hours as i can relate.. as back in the day i do three part time jobs at once.. and a full load of school.. for three degrees.. but i am amazed my friend at your poetic talent.. and please don't let the 'haters' here who i too.. have to continue to go up against.. to retain my artistic strength.. to just be me.. as silly as that may be.. in a place of sharing.. art.. instead of what is becoming more like the law enforcement atmosphere in the strident military environment i work in for 25 years or so.. frankly it's getting a little boring and repressing to me.. but my friend your words are welcome in my world.. as i am a human who can not speak until age 4.. and have trouble writing and orally expressing myself all my life.. particularly in emotional expression.. now i let it all go in creativity.. and some people here more or less make it their job of telling me to 'shut-up'.. i will never be shut up friend.. and i encourage you to continue to sing your poetry as the uncaged bird strives and drives to live free.. and one day when you retire like me.. i'm sure you too will go to every poet's site and write poetic expressions in response as i do.. with rarely a comment back.. from some of these folks who are complaining at you.. simply because i do so much more than them.. it doesn't take a rocket scientist to just live me alone and let me write.. either.. smiles.. with due concern and some earned disrespect and disgust seeing four people gang up on you today.. my young friend... who is juggling more than some of these folks can likely imagine in their life.. i tale it as i see it with zero fear.. and i'm glad you do too.. as the strong will always survive against all the haters of free.. who strive always to do more than life serves them in the present of challenge..:)
ReplyDelete