ODE TO ONE WHO

Because we are all tools...

I lost a friend today

He’s not too far away, only a continent or so

and maybe some few thousand words,

once close as fingertips to touch

but now dividing us by too much... overflow.

 

We wrote a book together. Such fine lines

tossing wit back and forth like vines

and catching meaning in-between

where others lost the plot. Or fought.

 

He said - he’ll be observing

from afar, the place from where

words live but just, unused, confined.

He’ll be there still. Still as a statue, till.

 

He said - don’t you mind me

the well’s gone dry somewhat

right here right now wrong - see

and maybe… maybe temporarily?

 

He needs some tender rain or that

eternal spring to fill it full again. He needs

to clear his mind, cleanse out the rot

and find some new white space - or not.

 

I said “You’re bailing out on me.”

Selfish as usual I ignored the clever

message left unheard - I said, “You dare

abandon ME?”

Reviews

[barleygirl]

I started out thinking your well-stated poem is describing a writing comrade, but in the last couple stanzas, I could also see glimpses that this friend could also be a less specific writing muse, as well. I think collaborating can be one of the sweetest ways to manifest a writing friendship & you've conveyed that notion here with feeling & depth. I also think we can be so inspired by a person, even when he's nowhere around (or completely gone from this planet), it's like he's sitting on our shoulder, helping us along. These are the ideas that your poem sparks, in addition to your main message stated with clarity. I especially like the second to last stanza -- those ideas are so true!

[Elise Anton]

You feel me... Yes, it is specific to a person, but also wanders into that 'muse in general' territory... I think there's three hovering around my shoulders as we speak. Vying for attention lol! Thanks for taking the time to read :)

[Davidgeo]

I could not possibly think of a better tribute....

Suffice to say it all falls apart regardless of a purgatory or a stay of pleasure...

At least we can write about it until we cant.

Can we not then?

[Elise Anton]

We sure can... One who.

[Hyacinth]

Oh...Oh...OH! This has-like so many of your other pieces- left me speechless. This is just so AMAZING!

[Elise Anton]

Thanks Hyacinth... I have whole files of this 'stuff', and sometimes I scroll through and one of them catches my eye... Through unfortunate circumstances, I lost ALL my writing prior to 2005 - everything, and I mean diaries, notebooks, poetry, stories... the lot. It took some years to pick up a 'pen' again after that devastation...

[Davidgeo]

Punch yourself in the face

[Elise Anton]

I did. Several time. Had to get all this new stuff out, right? Whatever it takes my friend. Besides, you wrote this one about me, remember???

[Davidgeo]

I punch myself to much

[Elise Anton]

As in you punch yourself to much poetry? Or you just punch yourself TOO much???

[gunjan]

nicely written,,,,,a deep feeling came out on paper,
thanks for sharing.

[Dhaye]

This is an outstanding poetry! I like the style, the format, the rhythm and subject.
I personally believe that if the friendship is real, no ego will prevail. You will have concern for each other and will try to understand...Will accept each others weaknesses.

[Alex James Strickland]

Wow! Wow!... WOW! The imagery in that poem was superb. I liked 'such fine lines, tossing wit back and forth like vines' as I can totally see what you mean. I'm very impressed. Thanks for sharing.

[Elise Anton]

Thanks for stopping by and taking the time to read :)