Mortaless Summoning

The sun rose high
And trickled down the side of the western world
My door. Closed.
[swaying in its lock]

it knocks
And shutters
on it’s own.
Smoke coils in the light
(Illuminated by leaving of the sun)
And as the final hour breaches the window,
Orange and gold dance through my exulted haze.
The dusk turns red to brown
'Farewell til dawn,' I say, as it curls 'round.
Simply rolling my world around afront its silent phasing,
"Farewell til dawn," I said, and light lingered for the last of day.

m'Sitting thoughtful on the edge of the bed
As His day is bound toward this way. this hour
My anticipation sleeps calmly like all the times before
When up the stairs he came after the clicking of the door.
Indeed, I heard him coming up the stairs.
(An impending presence succession, precise of my love),

[Twas a muffled paw and nothing more].

The mewing complaining is seeping from the space at the floor
And it opens it on its own and says hello
"Hello cat", I slam the door.

Had not the time to spare
                before
The air began to close.
          and Light shuttered like doves.
And all my life seemed to hide
          as fragmented shadows embraced me whole

My love, he never made it home.

M'knowing he slipped away from strangers’ sight with the coming of the night
With the leaving of the light (as it is remembered)
Rotating Earth into shadow
Indeed with the coming of she, the moon.
She devours the rays of dusk and
away the world is sucked Into an endless, blinding shock, a lock,
and unheard whispering prayers of sorts.
(Invocations swimming in the black ease of death- slowly melting in the dark).
Swallowing the freezing wind
And fat rain
Like liquid, the world became, and it drained,breathlessly into history.
Darkness filtered all
into black wind
         and misshapen sight
So infinite consciousness froze forever-reminiscent of the
          stolen hues of white

Then purging into the depths of stars swirling on their axis'
Like diamonds or pentagrams
In cisterns
Closing for the end of ever.

How preciously we must've twirled in the air.
Unseen(only remembered)
And evergreen voices pitched too low to hear
bellow on in the cracks of dusk now too small to see.
Pushed through an explicit wound in time

Sent to forget
 Everything Once Somewhere
                                 Was Beautiful
m'Imprisoned in ebony space, and nothing seems to exist.

Felt not save memoria
For m'trapped in an orbit of all things valuable

Shut out from pleasantries; missed.
Stolen. -against the will and goodness of aging time, mortal, less, summoned-
Between a cosmic blindfold,
Wayward on for what may be forever
I captured one "de ja vue nevermore".

Twas only a nightmare and nothing more..



© 2012 Jazmen

Reviews

[Cole Hayley]

Intriguing title, beautiful poem.

What else could have brought me to you?

[Jazmen]

thanks for reading! I appreciate that you took the time to review, thanks very much.

[Beck Louise]

You use words in a way that makes it enjoyable to read every single sentence, very well written :)

[Jazmen]

thank you

[Coyote Poetry]

I like the way you use the language. The poem brought the reader in with tale of mystery and wonder. I like the set-up of each place and thought. I had to read again. You are amazing Poet. Thank you for sharing the excellent poem.
Coyote

[Jazmen]

thank you very much

[Androglossia]

Reading your reply to Sir Pax's, I would agree that these were two separate poems, the first one was of different nature from the last. Or it may have been intended to be one; reality and dream.

On this write, you have sucessfully conveyed the arousing feelings of intense fear and state of mind through colors and points in space (an abyss of endless colors is what comes to mind). Everything else is well written (as usual) except that you may not really have concentrated more on drawing the distinctness or clarity of the line between reality and dream, which I think is very important on this piece. Then again love, I could be wrong.

Thank you for sharing.

[Jazmen]

Actuallyyy, before you wrote your review here I had deleted the old version. This is the last portion of the incorrect forming of the puzzle I was working on. I am actually going to rename this poem and change the photo as well to give it it's real name. which will come to me when it comes to me. haha. hopefully in the next 5.

Regardless, thanks for your focused review, I really love your feedback, thank you thank you.
And the other part of the "original version" if you will, I'll post when I come up with a proper ending for it. it's a tripped out poem, hard to write in segments. I should have finished it when I started it, you know how that goes, I'm sure.
Thanks again, Maryanne

[Androglossia]

Yeah I know how it goes. Funny you say that, I actually have a lot of them unpublished and unfinished poems in my catalogue to date. I have no idea how to plot the ending on each one of them. So maybe, as how you say it, it will come to me when it comes to me, lol.

The updated version on the other hand is clearer than the previous. I especially liked the last stanza, the feel of death. I always think of it as an endless void and your description of this brought a clearer vision to mind. I don't know if you've come across Anne Rice's books but I can't help but associate the last stanza to the first chapter of her Angel Time specifically the line "Evergreen voices pitched too low to hear". This being said, you're close at capturing the feeling of death as how it has been perceived by the minds of the few who chose to know.

Let me know when the final version is ready for reading.

[Jazmen]

I haven't read any Anne Rice, actually.. never. Though I've picked up several of her paperbacks at second hand book stores cause she always has such interesting titles. haha, but I've never read one. If you find her amusing, I may just pick that one up.
Anyway, this is the final version. I can't remember when I put it up cause this is the first time I saw your comment here. So maybe you've read it, whatever anyway. Just sayin'.

So yeah, when you said you have a ton of unpublished/unfinished work, I find that, exactly like what happened with this poem, I took two unfinished pieces and became inspired when they didn't fit together. It somehow told me that "it doesn't fit because this should be how it is instead" or something. Maybe try that? Just randomly select two pieces and put one first, exchange lines, change words to make them rhyme so all of a sudden its something completely different. It's kind of fun. Even if it doesn't work out. I think I'm satisfied with this poem FINALLY now so it worked this time at least.

[Androglossia]

I felt this version is more thoroughgoing now and concrete. If I'm correct, you have added some distinct lines between "How preciously we must've twirled in the air." and "Shut out from pleasantries; missed." stanzas to create a linkage. I could be wrong though. But I too am satisfied with the final outcome.

Anyway, Anne Rice's books are absolute fiction so there is a possibility that you may found them ridiculously incongruous. Just in case you would really pick one up, lol.

And I tried what you suggested, putting two different poems together. I'm still on the process though but one thing I discovered is that it's easier said than done, haha! I'm so lame...

[Rob Santana]

You are very creavtive,great job on this piece

[Jazmen]

thank you very much!

[B-poet]

Dark, poetic, vivid imagery with a touch of emphatic diction. A recipe that works very well with your poem here. Great job. :)

[amarlaksh]

wow good write. Keep writing

[Pax Analog]

Reads like a fracture in space & time, dream of wonderment hurtled into a nightmare of dark emptiness. Poe-like rumination wraps itself around this reader's brain & leaks into actuality in this life's cruel promise of epiphanies all too often dashed by pointless absurdities.

[Jazmen]

these were two separate poems that I couldn't find a beginning to one and an ending to the other. Re-reading it, I feel like maybe it should be separated, by the end of the whole thing(both poems back to back), Even I forgot what the first idea of the story was. for reference, the first ends where the other begins @ "The sun rose high..."
anyway,
I appreciate that you took the time to read this jargon and make your comments with their substantial pinpoints, thank you. I like your review.