Thread: For Richard

Just plant my heart in the ground
and let it root for something has to be done.
It can’t run loose around you any longer.
And you. You’ve never tried to rescue it.
It wind circles around you so fast that it sings.
And, oh, how you love torch songs.

The farmer nearby planted it in the corn row.
I fed him a good meal and thanked him for the harvesting.
The God in him will tend to its tired beat.

I pluck it from its stalk in spring.
My heart, now healthy from a thousand sun kisses.

I place it back in the socket.
Twist it left then right till it fits, fittingly.
It will never touch my sleeve, again.

You came to visit the other night
and said I didn’t seem the same.
I told you I’d just re-decorated
a room in my mind.

You didn’t have a clue
and my heart clapped.

You go girl, sock it to that stinkin' so and so. Very clever turns of phrase here, will elaborate more on the morrow, too tired and refuse to give you less than my best. Two little typos in the meantime, in S1 wind needs an s and spring in S3 should be lowercase. Will be back to cite the lines I loved, you've kicked cliche in the ass here and I loved the whole planting/harvest concept. Be back tomorrow.

Lisa, how wonderful that you took the time to comment at all knowing you're not up to par. Thank you so. This is my second "heartbreak" poem. Ha! The first one I wrote when I was eight in my diary. Wish I still had it!

It wind circles

How I wanted it to read. Grammar be gone with you! But "spring" is a fix.

Silver you gild words in beauty with your depth, drenching lines in this sad sweetness that I noticed in your other poems, a strong stated sense of knowing the self, as the voice of your speaker is always such a stalwart, even in the dreary doomy gloomy mists of heartbreak, cause don't let anyone fool ya, a break of the heart is a fracture in the soul. Your use of natural language is tremendous, the simplicity pulls out the beauty with little effort:

"The farmer nearby planted it in the corn row.
I fed him a good meal and thanked him for the harvesting.
The God in him will tend to it’s tired beat."

Great stanza and this is really a gem.

Also:

"I place it back in the socket.
Twist it left then right till it fits, fittingly.
It will never touch my sleeve, again."

Love this stanza for its pacing and the use of fit twice in a row in two different forms, the actual sound of it being read aloud givesthe eerie clicking of the heart being locked into place.

The last line is an amazing image to end on:

"my heart clapped."

I could picture and hear the grotesque meat slapping sound of a heart collapsing in on itself repeatedly in a vain effort to offer sarcastic congratulations.

Enjoyed it,

-Hoot

This will sound arrogant. But thank you, Hoot, for your astute observations.

a strong stated sense of knowing the self

I have been told many a time that I have a Strong Self Observing Ego. This serves me well in life as it does when writing. Which is pretty much my life or what matters most to me.

Love this stanza for its pacing and the use of fit twice in a row in two different forms, the actual sound of it being read aloud givesthe eerie clicking of the heart being locked into place.

Than you, Sir! "Fit, fittingly" I love "playing with words" Many games abounding if you give it some thought. And yes. Just what I wanted. I needed people to hear that "final lock" and never worn on the sleeve, again. Not that the heart will be held captive but will learn to love in a safer way.

the simplicity pulls out the beauty with little effort:

As Polonious said "Brevity is the Soul of Wit." I was told once by an author that I was an "organic" writer (I thought of a mulch pile) but got what he meant. My writing is raw in the sense that it might give the reader a rash. And rashes keep you awake. That's my goal. To keep readers thinking and feeling. As I've said many times. "Writing is the marriage between the intellect and the emotions."

The last line is an amazing image to end on:

"my heart clapped."

I could picture and hear the grotesque meat slapping sound of a heart collapsing in on itself repeatedly in a vain effort to offer sarcastic

Bravo! Where you lurking in my mind?

Thank you, Hoot, for your input and for your appreciation. Laurie

Echo Hoot, he puts things far more eloquently than I do. Agree with him about that gem of a stanza. Also loved these:


it wind circles around you so fast that it sings. (Fabulous image)
And, oh, how you love torch songs. (Lovely little stab)

The God in him will tend to it’s tired beat. (This struck my core, it's just that great. No apostrophe in it's, should be its)

My heart, now healthy from a thousand sun kisses. (Another fabulous image)

Twist it left then right till it fits, fittingly. (Echo Hoot regarding usage here)
It will never touch my sleeve, again. (This I love for the in your face strength)

And then there's that last line, absolutely perfect. Bravo, could you imagine "Richard's" face had your heart decided on a standing ovation in lieu of a single clap? Now that would have been priceless. lol. Sorry, Law, couldn't resist.

Lisa, all manners of speaking. And yours brings wit and colour. So with that said, I'm glad you liked the following. I almost had as much fun writing this as I did the last two lines!

And, oh, how you love torch songs. (Lovely little stab)

could you imagine "Richard's" face had your heart decided on a standing ovation in lieu of a single clap? Now that would have been priceless. lol. Sorry, Law, couldn't resist

Oh no sorry! Very cleverly put and if he could hear all that coming from my chest he might think he's on an acid trip wink!

Thanks so much, my dear friend.