Tuesday, April 19, 2011

that dirt street
everything hard-packed
hard breaks
hard kicked pebbles
hard cuts, dashes, flies over short stone walls that wend like rivers

think of cross stitches
think of folded maps
think fields of clover and ditch
the road

5 comments:

Coco Rico said...

your poems are so beautiful lately.

kourtney said...

lately??

Bethany Elizabeth said...

I love this so much. It feels like I'm just about to embark on an adventure. :)

Tim Shey said...

This poem reminds me of my life on the road--always walking, wandering, hitchhiking; walking on dirt roads and gravel roads.

You are such a gifted poet and a beautiful, young lady.

***

For some reason, this poem reminds me of the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins:

That Nature is a Heraclitean Fire and of the comfort of the Resurrection


"CLOUD-PUFFBALL, torn tufts, tossed pillows ' flaunt forth, then chevy on an air-
built thoroughfare: heaven-roysterers, in gay-gangs ' they throng; they glitter in marches.
Down roughcast, down dazzling whitewash, ' wherever an elm arches,
Shivelights and shadowtackle in long ' lashes lace, lance, and pair.
Delightfully the bright wind boisterous ' ropes, wrestles, beats earth bare
Of yestertempest’s creases; in pool and rut peel parches
Squandering ooze to squeezed ' dough, crust, dust; stanches, starches
Squadroned masks and manmarks ' treadmire toil there
Footfretted in it. Million-fuelèd, ' nature’s bonfire burns on.
But quench her bonniest, dearest ' to her, her clearest-selvèd spark
Man, how fast his firedint, ' his mark on mind, is gone!
Both are in an unfathomable, all is in an enormous dark
Drowned. O pity and indig ' nation! Manshape, that shone
Sheer off, disseveral, a star, ' death blots black out; nor mark
Is any of him at all so stark
But vastness blurs and time ' beats level. Enough! the Resurrection,
A heart’s-clarion! Away grief’s gasping, ' joyless days, dejection.
Across my foundering deck shone
A beacon, an eternal beam. ' Flesh fade, and mortal trash
Fall to the residuary worm; ' world’s wildfire, leave but ash:
In a flash, at a trumpet crash,
I am all at once what Christ is, ' since he was what I am, and
This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, ' patch, matchwood, immortal diamond,
Is immortal diamond."

***

"Down roughcast, down dazzling whitewash."

"Shivelights and shadowtackle in long ' lashes lace, lance, and pair."

See how Hopkins repeats words and consonants. Now look at your poem:

"hard breaks/ hard picked pebbles/ hard cuts"

"think of cross stiches/ think of folded maps/ think fields of clover and ditch"

This reads like Hopkins:

"flies over short stone walls that wend like rivers"

***

I am sorry that I haven't commented on your poetry in a while. I have been distracted of late. I have reaquainted myself with a young lady. I believe it is God's will, but I am still on the road. I am not sure what the Lord's timing is in this potential relationship. I first met her in 2003. I feel like I have been run over by a freight train.

I hope you have a beautiful day.

poetsforpeanuts said...

Enough! the Resurrection,
A heart’s-clarion! Away grief’s gasping, ' joyless days, dejection.
Across my foundering deck shone
A beacon, an eternal beam. '

@Tim thank you so much for posting the beautiful verses!

@Bethany thank you very much! I was thinking of adventures when I wrote it.

@Kourtney haha thanks luv! :)