In the Gray Heart

I got your last words wrong.

Nightlight shines through the crack

in the gray heart.

I pass with the breath

of the golden summer wind.

I'm afraid someone will take

the life I finally deserve.

I go astray, I don't know how

to knock on an open door.

His heart is a grain of sand,

a lump that is lost in the desert.

The wind hid my dreams in

its warm, soft hands.

I dreamed of convincing myself to love,

but time is trapped in a coma.

Eternity is over,

it was a picturesque ending.

Along with the silence passed

the most beautiful thoughts,

words without beginning and end.

Once again I choked on the light,

once again my cradle of heart

ran out of sleep.

I am plunging into an ancient fossil,

looking for a tomorrow

that could bring us a bit of crystal caresses,

a few unfinished ballads.

Before time takes us upstairs,

before the calendar gets lost

in calculations,

let the blemishes on our temples burst.

Let us cure ourselves

of this epoch, of these mirages

that were interrupted halfway.

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

The impression I get here is that of a promising relationship that met an untimely end. Whether the cause was a breakup or death is not stated, but some of the words seem to indicate there is the hope of salvaging things. That possibility seems uncertain, though, and I think the speaker blames himself.

[JE Falcon]

"I got your last words wrong.
Nightlight shines through the crack
in the gray heart." --- Translation in my mind: I misunderstood what you said, now I sit alone realizing my mistake. --- If I'm way off base, let me know.
"but time is trapped in a coma." --- Not relating to coma. --- And epoch is distasteful from this reader's standpoint. Minor changes would do this poem a world of good. But keep in mind, you are the writer and always have the deciding word, if you don't believe me, just ask Bob Dylan.

[M. J. Smith]

"...Mirages that were half ended..."
Dreams not quite realized. How many of us know exactly this feeling? Nicely done, Sir.

[JayG]

• I got your last words wrong.

I’m not dead. How can you get my last words wrong?

You might think about editing as the reader, not yourself. When you read these words, the person who spoke those last words is in your mind, as are the words that were spoken. But you never tell the reader what they are, the subject, who spoke them…or why. So how can the line mean anything to the reader? And even if you had later clarified, is there a second, first-impression? No.

You cheat, when you read this, and have two things your reader lacks: Context and intent. You know where we are, who we are, and what’s going on. You know what prompted the speaker to act. What does the reader have? Only what your words suggest to THEM, based on THEIR life-experience, not your intent.

If the reader doesn’t have context—if you don’t either provide it or evoke it in the reader’s mind, they have only words in a row. Pretty they might be. And a given line might hit them, emotionally, but can they have the reaction you do, not knowing what you know?

• Nightlight shines through the crack in the gray heart.

Again… “The gray heart?” You have intent for the meaning the reader is to take, but given that we know literally noting about the situation, how can this mean anything to the reader?

It’s not a matter of language, talent, or how well you write. It’s one of communication. Beauty of language is necessary, but if the story in your head doesn’t transfer to the mind of the reader in the form in which it began the journey, communication doesn’t take place.

One thing that helps is to read the words aloud with no inflection. That removes the emotion you place there that only you can hear. Another is to have the computer’s Narrator program read it to you, to have a better idea of how it sounds to a reader.

The third thing is to borrow a technique from fiction, called Motivation/Response Units.

In life, our day—from the moment of waking to the time sleep comes—life is an unbroken chain of cause and effect. In writing fiction we present five steps:

1. Something catches our protagonist’s attention.
2. There may be and instinctive reaction: It’s where we flinch, duck, or scream, etc.
3. Recognition: We decide what has caught our attention and if it’s worth responding to.
4. Analysis: Where we decide what to do in response.
5. Action—which most often leads back to step 1.

In poetry we don’t hit all the steps, but must take them into account. If someone speaks, we need to know why. Often, it’s implied. Here, though, “your last words,” could mean words before death. Could have been someone saying, “meet me in the orchard.” It might be a lover, a child, or a dear friend. This person might be embarking on a journey, deserting the speaker, or going to prison. The possibilities are endless, and each presents a different mood. But whatever the cause, unless the reader has at least an idea of the situation, the words that are in response to that situation have no meaning.

Make sense?

[Betty Hermelee]

A beautiful, metaphoric poem with many complex meanings; it seems that you are looking for something positive in your life, a bit lost, but with some hope' looking always for some light to grasp you from darkness, from falling into an abyss; your choice of words is perfect for the setting of this piece. I love the line "the wind hid my dreams".. and others as well. This is a very thoughtful poem.
Best, Betty

[KAREN]

Eternity is over,
it was a picturesque ending.
Along with the silence passed
the most beautiful thoughts,
words without beginning and end.
I love this stanza! This was a well written crafted poem!

[Lisasview]

There are so many lines and complete stanzas that I love.."Let the blemishes on our temples burst." is one of my most favourites.. Oh, it could mean so many things... Great choice of metaphors..
The Wind hid my dreams.. another favourite..
Excellent write that forces the reader to think... which is always good..
Lisa

[Fabian G. Franklin]

Wonderfully crafted, this write is so poignant and filled with both longing and introspection. The fifth stanza was particularly moving to me since I could relate completely to its meaning. But we are determined to immortality; in our writings and musings if nothing else. Love is an aching malady and death, the only cure. I thoroughly enjoyed this masterful writing and I thank you for sharing your considerable poetic talents with us. Bless. F.