A Careless Mess

If I pretend

your heart means nothing

to me

 

maybe mine

will resume its functional

function

and paper just might be able

to handle my

           w.o.r.d.s afterall

        But yours...

Yours

are just mean

and living

slicing into breathing tissue

     biting teeth

       grinding those words only

i can see anyway

 

And I believed you

when you told me

    that through countless rewinds

you'd become a kinder version

of

  that

    that...uncommon you

But...but in all those untidy

     intervening

days

i became the sum of a landslide

of calamities, blooming lilacs, spin cycles,

quarter notes, toy tin soldiers falling down in

progression~plink plink plink

 

that did not agree with the 22 year old

little girl who twinkled sweetly for you

 

And in all the dazzling adoration of

Your undeniable talent

   You left me with a paper drawing against

all my broken heartbeats

 

But I have words even you don't understand

 

 

 

 

 

 

l

 

 

 

View cascade's Full Portfolio
Starward's picture

Are you familiar with Paul

Are you familiar with Paul Claudel, a poet who was, for a time, French Ambassador to the United States (in the twenties).  He created a very unique form of poetry, during his writing career, in which he completed suspended traditional stuff like measure and rhyme for metaphors . . . one metaphor after another, in ordinary language, so that the poem's rhythm became the appearance of metaphors only.  I cannot fread his French, but your style here reminds me very much of what I have read of his in translation.  (Granted, he was not a very pleasant person, apparently, and is not now popular in France, more of his politics and personal life than his poems; but I am not suggesting you are like him in those aspects.)  But the sheer use of metaphor to carry the poem's emotional package . . . as in this poem, and Claudel's . . . is pure talent at its very best.


Starward

Cascade's picture

I am not familiar with that

I am not familiar with that poet, but I am very honored that you seem to think I am a talented writer, sir. Thank you...truly

Starward's picture

I wish I could be as humble

I wish I could be as humble as you when you write, "you seem to think . . ."  Actually, my friend, it matters very little what I think, you are an excellent poet regardless of what I think.  Your talent is like so excellent natural site---like a waterfall, or a mountain, or some such, that needs no other person's thought to be what it is.  Your talent is like that.  In the several years that I studied Claudel in translation, I could never figure out quite how he wrote what he did; and the same holds true here.  

 

There is a musical passage at the climax of the second movement of Chopin's 2nd Piano Concerto, a simple modulation from the seventh chord to the fourth, played between the basoon and the piano alone.  It is such a very simple piece of music---just four or five notes in progression, and it yet it has taken my breath away since I first heard a version of it in 1975.  Your poetry is like that.


Starward

Stephen's picture

Wow!!!

Wonderful expression of feelings.  Stephen

Cascade's picture

Thank you so much, Stephen.

Thank you so much, Stephen.

word_man's picture

creative write cascade,you

creative write cascade,you are talented


ron parrish<iframe width="640" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/HK0VOeau_gs?feature=player_detailpage" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><iframe width="640" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/3il0lS6lix4?feature=pl

Cascade's picture

You are a kind and loyal

You are a kind and loyal reader, wordman. Thank you!

word_man's picture

my pleasure mam..

my pleasure mam..


ron parrish<iframe width="640" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/HK0VOeau_gs?feature=player_detailpage" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><iframe width="640" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/3il0lS6lix4?feature=pl