Palimpsest

A poem...

My skin

-a parchment upon which

the scribe of life describes

all the things within.

 

This skin of bound reeds,

-pulled and strung together.

From the river of soundless needs.

Has been drawn upon,

-with my pain and years.

A painful papyrus,

-etched with all my hopes and fears.

 

Then left to bake beneath the sun,

-to float upon the river,

Where my life had once begun.

That river of soundless needs.

Flowing from the past,

-the pain inside of me.

Now…washed clean.

But paper left wet,

-cannot be used to write dreams.

 

Now,

I wish I could feel.

But this placid sea surrounding me,

-has me numb from all that’s real.

But I’m not drowning.

I lack the passionate pounding

-of a panicked, dying heart.

I’m the floating corpse,

-washed up from frozen seas

Unidentified at distant ports.

 

I want to think.

But my thoughts are submerged

-by the sudden urge

To drink as I sink.

To take in the river and the sea,

-maybe then I’ll drown

Shiver and be deceased.

 

I can only pray,

-that in my last moments

My heart will finally beat.

Just before the mass of rodents,

-claim what they’ve been waiting so long to eat.

 

I’m not angry.

I’m not sad.

I have a faint envy of the things,

-I think I once had.

Buried beneath the numbness.

 

You have no inkling,

-of the energy it took.

To muster up these thoughts,

-From my crumbled, fading book,

Of feelings I must have bought.

 

Already, I feel myself fading.

 

The palimpsest

-faded remnants of words

once passionately obsessed

     erased

Lingering just enough to see,

-the final faded trace,

Of what I once used to be.

 

How can I feel,

-when my pages are faded?

All the things I once hated,

-that fueled the fire,

The desire in my heart.

Have washed away,

-tearing my book of life apart.

 

Too many storms,

-and not enough paper.

Not enough skin,

-for the scars from every traitor.

Not enough tears,

-from a body now dry.

Not enough sorrow,

-to even want to die.

 

I feel no desire, no hope, no devotion,

So tonight, I float and float through this ocean,

Of silent, suppressed, solemnity.

Wishing the will to seek,

-but I close my eyes.

Because, even wishing makes me weak…

Author's Note

pal·imp·sest/ˈpalimpˌsest/
Noun:

1. A manuscript or piece of writing material on which the original writing has been effaced to make room for later writing.
2. Something reused or altered but still bearing faint, visible traces of its earlier form.

Reviews

[Southern Cross]

"Too many storms,
-and not enough paper.
Not enough skin,
-for the scars from every traitor"...One of my favorite lines though I am hard pressed to find just one to chose as this piece creates a mood unto itself. The numbness growing with each new stanza. You are a master of imagery and description.

[MachinaWriter]

lol I wouldn't say master, but thank you for the compliment. ^^ I've been trying to broaden my brush lately, trying things with less of the literal, clear cut description, which most of my early poems on here have. I'm still learning, but its definitely been interesting. Thank you for reading it. As always, your comments help build me up and I look forward to seeing them each time ^^

[Kelsey]

I think this is a great example of why you remain one of my favorite writers. It's amazing what your mind can do with words. You never fail to impress me, and you've done so once again. x

[MachinaWriter]

Thank you, as always ^^ Glad to hear from you. I always love getting your reviews. They, like a few other reviewers, have a way of making me see my own work differently.

[MachinaWriter]

Any lines in particular that spoke to you? Or any lines you feel could have been better?

[eglantine]

Nice use of a word not commonly used! Makes a great title! Glad to not see the word itself in the actual poem, but the poem is the word.

[MachinaWriter]

Thank you, I read the word in a wonderful little book called "poemcrazy" that's full of activities and things meant to inspire poetry. A great read. For once, I can recommend something for you to read ^^ lol

[J. Write]

Wow! your descriptions are superb. They demand the attention of the reader and I was sucked into it. My best line -"But paper left wet,
-cannot be used to write dreams"
I loved it, like really loved it.

[MachinaWriter]

Thank you ^^ That was also one of my favorite lines, as well. I've lately been reading this short little book called "poemcrazy" that is really good for inspiring poetry. I read the word palimpsest in there and filed it in the back of my mind. I started writing this and it sort of placed itself in my poem lol

[Belinda]

I like this. Your poems are so captivating. Its something I wish I could do myself.but I'm not jealous.I'm just proud of you and your wonderful gift to p put great words together to where they flow so effortlessly. Great read. Loved it. But I always do.

[MachinaWriter]

Thank you. I always love hearing your thoughts on my poems, so it was great to see your review here. You put a new perspective on my work that sometimes I didn't even see until you said it. Other times you're just a great encouragement. Both are immeasurably valuable, so I thank you.

[Belinda]

Huh. I didn't know my reviews did so much. You are welcome. :)

[MachinaWriter]

^-^

[MachinaWriter]

I heard it once said that "A poem is not a poem until it is read by another". The thoughts and views and perceptions of others is what makes a poem magical. It comes to life when its read and I love hearing how it comes to life in other people's minds and hearts. That's the best part of writing poetry.

[Belinda]

Not enough skin,

-for the scars from every traitor.

Those lines right there is what really made the poem for me. I love those lines, I always say all poems could be broken down to one great verse, one great line that makes the poem magic. This one is my favorite. Others will choose differently, cause poems or objective. The magic is in each line, but one will stand out, which one isn't for certain for the people that read it. But there is always one.

[MachinaWriter]

Very well put.