poetry

open air

You...pulled the breath from my lungs.

You were
    Unexpected;
          You fell on hard
            Like a squall.
            You took everything
          Short of all
        And, in ten seconds,
      Whipped it to a whirlwind;
    You tooled it to a tailspin
  And faked my death,
Pulled the breath from my lungs.
You spun me ‘round
      And pinned me down
            To the corners of my sheets;
                In my chest and since, I’ve ten
          Missed beats for each eleventh one.
              As with a ladder, I race the rungs
        From dungeon to fearful sun,
            For open air—
      And you are there.
          Behind and before me,
    Everywhere I look,
        Your whispering brown eyes
  Levitate me
      Above the lies and crooks
Of Heart;
You reach in to set me free.
  You elevate me
      Into skies unknown,
            Across starfields
                      I’ve not yet
                                  Flown.


16 comments on “open air

  1. Lovely. I like the format – the way the smooth wave of the lines, and the way they break into a ladder effect, then sweep smoothly away. It’s very effective.

    Liked by 1 person

    • You have an almost unfairly intuitive eye for observation, Jane…I’ve come to thoroughly enjoy being on the receiving end of you picking a piece to pieces…

      Liked by 1 person

      • You flatter me… even as you seem to suggest that I’m being critical. The stepped effect impressed me; there’s a bravery about it. Love is not an entirely smooth curve. I wouldn’t have had the courage to break the comfortable sway of the format, but in doing so you add something to the poem. It’s impressive.
        Am I making sense?

        Liked by 1 person

      • Very much so; in fact, you completely unraveled the intent of format. That’s what’s utterly impressive…and I love it. Though, I must admit, your comment regarding the smoothness of love…well, that’s all yours and it’s freakin’ sublime. I have countless pieces that, for years, have hidden many secrets, both in the way of words or in the lay of the page. I suspect of poets in general: there’s something in us that both quietly strives to say, without saying it, what we would outright struggle to say and, at the same time, wants so deeply to have what we didn’t say be heard. For a poet, this is a beautiful torment…

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Show, don’t tell… I spent 20 years having to c.l.e.a.r.l.y spell out everything I had to say in order not to be deliberately misunderstood, so when I began posting poetry I was very blunt. I wanted to make sure I was understood, and I had no qualms about openness. The only thing that worried me was offending my readers. Relearning subtlety has been, and still is, an exciting journey for me. It’s easier now that I’m less angry.
    There are drawbacks to blogging. While it gets our work out there, readers are often in a rush to get through each post in order to reach the next. We overstretch ourselves, and much of what we read may be for the sake of etiquette, rather than enrichment or pleasure. Few people notice deeper meanings. Maybe that’s why mediocre poetry is often so popular – speaking of which, I’m thinking of experimenting with a new blog, to see if my theory is right. It would be full of poems like this:

    i love the way you kiss me
    the way you hold me too
    if you should walk away from me
    I don’t know what i’d do
    i think i’d lose my appetite
    and cry the whole night through
    i’d never take another
    ‘cos all I’d want is you

    Waddaya think? It only took me a coupla minutes to write. Ain’t I clever?

    Liked by 2 people

    • I think you’d be quite surprised how well your new blog would do! Ha!

      I tremble my way up the stairs,
      Knowing your sleep enfolds you there,
      Wanting to wake you unto my cares
      And bathe my worries in your stare.

      For the rose is red, the bonnet blue,
      The nightshade poisonously pink;
      I’d make a wreath of all for you,
      And petal the path for what you think.

      My two cents!

      Liked by 1 person

      • You’ve been hiding your bushel under a light, but I think I win – I reckon my poem’s worse than yours.
        I hope you know we’re in danger of losing our credibility.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Ah, but I invoked the horrendous, nails-on-a-chalkboard ‘roses are red’ cliche! Surely I get lack-of-style points for that?

        Like

  3. OK, we’ll call it a draw. There’s very little talent in either of the poems. I’ve been coming up with alternative last lines: ‘and drown you in the sink, or ‘I’m drunker than you think’.
    I must stop this. If the wind changes I may get stuck with writing trash for the rest of life.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. This is brilliant…like the stairs in open air.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, WD! This was a totally spontaneous piece…in moments, this is what I had on screen. I don’t keep every such fly-away, but decided to keep this one. I’m happy you enjoyed it…

      Liked by 1 person

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