I have tried for a long time to write this. It is my first legitimately new poem to share.
i will wrap myself in blankets and metaphors and tell everyone it's armor. i will sit here, against all better judgment, and figure out exactly how long it takes for pain to become nostalgia.
all i know is that there was a moment when the buzz of a modem turned into music, and no one i know can guess when it happened.
and for whatever it's worth, i have never once fallen out of love in my life. but do not doubt that i find it every single day.
it's the blood on the radio that bears the burden. all i do is smile.
Wow. Just wow and I NEVER wow. This could have been written by my legitimately rock star of a son, a 23-year-old lead guitarist in a metal band who talks in metaphors and hears music in a drain emptying. "Blood on the radio" is a line I understand as a writer and I am sure he does as a musician. Our blood is our ink. Just moved me to tears, as no one understands him like I do, or so I thought. 100/100
"and tell myself it's armor"... that line is so vivid and so right on. All artists do that in a way, I think. But I never saw it quite that way, before. That line is going to stick with me. The third stanza is such a great narrative. I know plenty of musicians, and I know every one of them would smile at that. The last stanza is spot on, as well. I love how you show his worries, his problems being transferred to his art so he can be free to be free. Outstanding.
Yes, of course! We're just everything we've ever been. Leave it behind... but carry it with you still? Yeah, that's how it goes. I really love your work!
Wow. Just wow and I NEVER wow. This could have been written by my legitimately rock star of a son, a 23-year-old lead guitarist in a metal band who talks in metaphors and hears music in a drain emptying. "Blood on the radio" is a line I understand as a writer and I am sure he does as a musician. Our blood is our ink. Just moved me to tears, as no one understands him like I do, or so I thought. 100/100
i'm not sure how i missed this one before.
this is a different color of you. a slower color. introspective. and you've no idea how glad i am that when you look inside you find music, and love (every. single. day. - that was perfectly crafted btw) despite the pain, and the bloody radio.
it's nice when you smile.
so i'll echo your mellow, rolling title, and remind you, in this ugly, rough-shod world, be easy.
"the buzz of a modem/ turned into music" - but isn't white noise the music filling our ears most of the time?! :)...
Posted 13 Years Ago
The first stanza seriously made me think. I stared at it for a full ten minutes trying to figure out when pain becomes nostalgia. For everyone I guess it's different, but I am sceptic and not sure if it ever does.
"i have never once
fallen out of love in my life."
I dont think I will ever forget those two lines. I love how you break it there too, it gives the reader a pause for inflection.
That last stanza is a razor....and I love the title. I think pain becomes nostalgia the minute you relaease what you got into the world and control is given over to other points of view. What it is you turned over will never be the same in your mind or anyone elses...but that little gnaw of nostalgia will hang out in the back of your mind and let you know that what you did was all you at one point. Great stuff.