|03-02-2013, 08:10 PM||#1|
Join Date: Mar 2006
WotW - I think I miss talking to you most when I read about Islam.
I think I miss talking to you most when I read about Islam.
in the suras of medina your voice is a dream catcher wet with smoke and mist
that comes rolling in sheets off the ocean to cover the Camden bay
absolute submission is us two kissing first inside your loveseat,
and then around your stomach, my knees coated with the dust of your rug,
crying as simply as the mosque towers strong and still against a new york skyline
the corkboard in your room where you tacked up old letters from your brother,
and reminders that underneath death there was a fundamental promise
that life is good and crisp and pure,
looking down on me and you were crying in a special silence
that haunts me deep tonight,
with the lights low and casting shadow on the walls of my small apartment
and the candles i have lit and lain around the hardwood
do not burn away the longing i keep buried during waking hours
for you to be the spirit i am praying to,
when the world is dark and winds are fast and cold
and i am ready to pour my whole self into your wide and open vessel
and leave nothing in my wake
in the suras of medina your voice is old and sand-buffeted and weathered
but is unwavering and sweet like a mother naming her new child
alone in the hospital room with the small god she has just called forth from her womb
listening to the whispers and wires
invisible except for in moments of grace
absolute surrender is you digging through the high school lunchroom trash
to reclaim a ring i had given you,
and then us naked in the girls locker room
on a day where the halls were empty and echoed
with sounds we could have sworn originated from somewhere in the sky
the tower of stone we hiked to on Mt. Batty
where i first understood what marriage meant,
and i faded through your hair later in the night
in the attic of an old house
where we lay among the isolation and desperation of young love,
and christened a small Pendleton blanket in the name of an infinity
that haunts me deep tonight,
with the lights low
and snow sticking on the tree branches outside my quaking windows
and the world is dark and winds are fast and cold,
and i can feel you out in boston, strong and still and grown
since i last spoke with you and God alone,
you are the only key to God i have ever known.
Last edited by #1 synth : 03-03-2013 at 01:11 AM.
|03-04-2013, 02:32 PM||#4|
Join Date: Sep 2006
Oh man, I loved this. And I think the repetition of certain parts worked really good. And this is the first piece I've finished from you, which kept me interested all the way through. The reason for this is simply the title. There's this girl I used to know...which I had a small relationship with in the younger days, who has converted to islam now. So I found this poem very connective in strange way.
Just one question. As doubtfulsalmon said to me, perhaps punctuation should be considered in such long poems? I'm not against it not being used though. I thought this piece flowed really well, despite it being long.
The empty moon
Last edited by Eccer : 03-06-2013 at 02:05 PM.
|03-08-2013, 10:53 AM||#6|
mon titre d'utilisateur
Join Date: Jun 2004
Location: In the bucket at the end of time.
"Success is as dangerous as failure. Hope is as hollow as fear." - from Tao Te Ching