I Have To Go

“I still had this idea that there was a whole world of marvelous golden people somewhere, as far ahead of me as the seniors at Rye when I was in the sixth grade; people who knew everything instinctively, who made their lives work out the way they wanted without even trying, who never had to make the best of a bad job because it never occurred to them to do anything less then perfectly the first time. Sort of heroic super-people, all of them beautiful and witty and calm and kind, and I always imagined that when I did find them I'd suddenly know that I Belonged among them, that I was one of them, that I'd been meant to be one of them all along, and everything in the meantime had been a mistake; and they'd know it too. I'd be like the ugly duckling among the swans.” ~~Revolutionary Road

The craft of my clanged feet

Trod in silent trepidation on the bulbous emerald green,

Clothed in the ushering of the faraway star.

As the knobby fingers grab the metal mezzotints of the wrought iron gate,

Its lazy creaks dawdling in the morning florid puffs,

I feel wisps of the cold dread that curdles in leafy knots of bumblebee,

Its tassels suffusing in forces of incognito,

Clawing my skin in many a barbed prickles,

Thrusting in hesitant steps up the pebbled footholds.

There is a red satchel across the drooping shoulders

That squirrels the fluffy little dreams and the voluptuous stories

And the spiral twists of the winding lane in her hypnotized promenades

Leads to the rocky banks of the dying lagoon

Where in the alabaster ivory cove I made love with that sandy haired girl Gabrielle

In the creamy froth of the sultry Saturday twilight.

Just where the gravel grumbles gives way to the singing grass,

There are the dwindling wrecks the queen’s château.

There is a creature up in its rickety spire, bidding her time.

She is a fleecy ball of cinder ash in all her ravenous splendor,

The cockeyed head held in appraisal suspension,

The crescent beak gulping down the spoofy shards.

Concealed in the creepers of wisteria, there is the pair of her beetle-black eyes,

The inkling in their iris emanates rays in silent mutiny that delves in the cores,

Weighing my virtues and vices, adjudging the proportions.

How I wish I could snatch her by that furry muzzle,

Shove her down the adder’s throat, lurking in the vines of mistletoe.

But I hear the melodies of distant caravans rolling on dusty roads,

Someone is there, calling me,

That woman in pallid face and Celtic regalia,

I have to go.

As I totter by, I see,

In the undulating meadows ablaze in molten gold,

A single daisy raising her cocky head,

All foxy looking in the brooch of vanilla florets and the sulfur glow on the blushed face,

Crooning those Limerick runes floating in the autumn air, that head in pendulum motions.

But I know the reason behind that sly smile, that caricature she puts on,

She is turning over my fazed chronicles in her head,

Overcome by the silent giggles she glances with her noxious stare,

That sneers with goading razz, mauling my skeletal spine, in the shells of chutzpah.

I could have plucked her, petal by petal, killing her stink,

Stunned her in a wooden frame hanging on my lilac walls.

But no, I have to get going,

I see the azure shimmers just a way ahead,

The ship fleet, all resplendent in their manors of steel,

The hails of seamen, moonstruck in their buoyant reveries,

Holding the promises of Arcadian backwoods.

I see that dusty road to the pier, with fewer conquers in between,

I have to go. 

Reviews

[R J Askew]

I like this notion of having to move on from her. I sometimes think that love and lust are the greatest enemies of a writing man as they distract us from our prime purpose in life. And so 'I have to go' seems to me like a msg to life, which continually tries to distract us with its crazy urge to be. We are writers, we don't want to dally, wo waste our energies, we have to go.

[Gobinder Singh Dhindsa]

Well Döne! Pen On.. Do u read mine 2 Time and Manner..

[Ravyne Hawke]

What a beautiful snapshot of a moment in time, filled with brilliant imagery and engaging language. I saw everything intimately, each nuance as if I were there, observing. And O how I wish I were! Thank you!

[quinfinn]

this poem reads itself and takes the viewer into a plethora of magnificent imagery and unrelenting , almost magical metaphor. i felt while reading a driving compulsion to embrace every elaborate detail as i was lulled into another world, foreign to mine and yet, very much like my own element. your use of imagery is musical and stunningly relaxed as almost a second language. you, my friend, may color me impressed!

[...]

Wow! Stunning expression...

[Pratik]

Thank You! I am glad you liked it :)

[...]

Thank you for sharing your art :)

[sharrondark]

Hi Aaran,
This can turn in to a movie, I like the introduction and should be framed.

[Brandon S. Whitten]

Bravura! Sublime! Magnifico! Use of words not listed in my vocabulary, but beautifully expressed. Well now they are:)

[Cascara (aka Sprint Goe..]

Wow!

You've got quite a diverse vocabulary.

[AK]

Beautifully written! Your placement and choice of words is amazing! The title was very magnetic and immediately made me read the poem. Outstanding work!

[V]

what a great story you have created. amazing feel for the use of words. this one really got me captured. feels like the imagery frequently changes from positive to negative by each line, just like a prickling rollercoaster ride of words. I think this is one of your best ones. I really enjoyed reading. Thanks for sharing. :)