Your Story

 

Paint me a picture with your words.

Grasp the pen and write me a world

filled with your realized dreams.

 

An angel in dressed down clothes,

you sit quietly in a place

where you no longer truly belong,

and pen poetry beneath a sun

that is slowly setting upon you.

 

All that I want is for your memoir

to have a proper ending, a final scene,

a neatly wrapped up finale where you can

take a bow in your translucent skin, and

I can take your hand and feel the strength

before we both drift from the stage.

 

As evening approaches, I watch your hands,

hurried by the closing darkness, frantic

to finish what you’ve started, and I fear

that your ending will only be

the beginning of my story, and

I’m not sure I have the talent

to pick up where you’ve left off.

 

So sit for me a little longer,

and I’ll cast light for you;

 

I’ll hold off the coming of the night

and try to pay attention to what you teach,

so that when it is time for you to leave,

to pick up your things and walk away,

I will know how to hold your pen

and how to finish your story.

Author's Note

Exploration of life and death...tell me what you see in this...

Reviews

[J.Black]

wonderful!

[deadlife]

...

[Delilah Dunn]

Beautifully written and the story of your poem has touched my soul. Thank you.

[dilettante1890]

I love the strong images and the ease of this poem. As always, well done!

[Gandré]

This is about a relationship which is not fullfilled. He comes leaves his footsteps and impression. The metaphor of finishing his story I perceive like and ... then you will be able to know him, his inner self after he left his picture (your experience of him) in your hands. Very nice! Great this magazine also finds it wonderful. You deserve it.

[C.R. Moore "Lasla"]

I see regeneration of the writing art .
The elders can teach and feed the young and eager to grow in their art.Doing this they are helping to merge to form a union with the young talent seeking growth ,the torch has been passed assuring that it lives on when we do not, but the written verse can be kept alive!
A excellent poem and lesson indeed.

Lasla

[Don Coorough]

I see the interlaced fingers of different generations realizing they need one another to progress and thrive. I see them interlaced through hope and uncertainty, through transitions with each finding themselves in the other. I see the interrelationships become clarified through the understanding that each is becoming, always becoming, seeking a way to write the mutual story of all out of one. There are so many wonderful lines in this poem, one would nearly have to address each one to point out the poignancy. The two italicized sections are important to the poem, because they paint examples of each of the two generations creating a warmth, a haven or eden for the other. There is also present something of the screenwriter in you, wanting to elicit a "final" scene. I think, in poetry, there need not be final scenes, no finality of anything, poems capture an instant, as yours has. It is a beautiful frame out of the movie which is life. I am amazed by your drawing attention to the hands and the scurried activity. It's a powerful image. Keep dipping your quill into the inkwell of life and painting blank pages with what you feel. You weave tapestries with your words that inspire as they delineate. - EllisD