On the doorstep

Sitting once more

in the diamond pure night

chasing the cheap wine thrill,

trying new ways to express

the same old, unseen moon

beneath the duvet of darkness

quilted in sand

and a raging violent anger

undefined -

surfing my rodents blood,

the cockroach

crab

the beetle, laughing easy

at my inadequate style,

floating all around,

Italian young love, entwined

and whispering sweet sonnets

from the Corazon to the

never chaste catholic loins,

light candles and incense,

sweet smelling in my

trammelled brain

a toast to the 

Friday night mass

and the blinking

fairy light horizon,

bonfires burning on the

distant far away shore

and unaware dreaming fish

wrenched - unexpected - into

the death of fresh air ,

Reviews

[Eilis]

I read this as part of your travelogues. These are some of my favorite poems of yours. In this one, I like the mixing of the beauty and wonder of the moment alongside the internal head jangle that can break in anywhere/anytime and steal away some of that glory of moment.

But still, even in the wake of brain fog, the beauty shines through and the poet takes center stage in spite of his own feeling that the poetry within has already been spent. It all builds around this yearning to say something that hasn’t been said; to love in a way that hasn’t been paraded or hidden or shown to harm. There’s this sense of the pervading of boredom—with self and maybe in general—or perhaps the desire to be unsettled when the divine world continues to reveal itself making it impossible to ignore the wonder. Still thinking.

Maybe it’s a mixture of these things. Mood itself is a fickle thing and while finding a new phrase for moods of moon may seem impossible, just give it a moment and you’ll come up with something stunning. Like:

and unaware dreaming fish
wrenched - unexpected - into
the death of fresh air ,

Wow. That’s what I said when I got there. That is poetry of the highest kind, viewed through the dusky windows of night. Excellent poem, Gram. Full of the things that bring poets to life.

[gram linski]

thanks , Eilis, there was definitely that idea of the beauty of nature colliding with head fog, and a feeling of unworthiness both the human inner dark thoughts mixed with the outer external majesty of the sound of the sea and trying to express the moon in the limited dialogue of language, sitting watching the world unfold, does make one feel very small in the grand scheme of things, once again you have grabbed the essence, of what I was trying to say, thanks so much for your great comments high praise coming from a poet of your calibre, really appreciate the time and thought you give , it means a lot, thanks again

[barleygirl]

If I had to overcome so much static from the ether, I might never have come up with anything poetic while parked on my own midnight doorstep pondering the twinkling chasm above. I love how your non-linear spill of imagery alternates between lyrical & kinda icky. Nicely dynamic & imaginative (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[gram linski]

Thanks Margie, not quite sure what icky means, but I'll take the compliment, the static and the waves were soothing and cleansing,

[barleygirl]

icky = cockroaches, rodents blood, etc.

[kentuck14]

Wow Gram . . . all this came to you while sitting on your doorstep??!!! Must've been the cheap wine, eh?
Moonstruck perhaps?! Good thing this vision doesn't become real or your neighborhood would panic at the sight and sound.
T

[gram linski]

Cheers T. the doorstep in question was on the promenade of a beach in Italy, I wish it was my doorstep,

[Robert Trakofler]

Hey whats wrong with rodents? I am the product of a Catholic upbringing we never had a Friday night mass what's the deal I always had to go Sunday Mornings:( or of course sneak in and get a bulletin if father John didn't see me... thank goodness he always did mass super fast on football Sundays! This reminds me of an old neighborhood friend he liked to say if he couldn't get laid he could at least get into a good fight:) I remember those days very well we drank MD and Iron city not to many ciders when i was a kid

[kentuck14]

Iron City!!! Yeoh!!!!!! Was as bad as Utica Club or Genessee! Did your friend survive into old age?
T

[gram linski]

Hey, Mr B. glad you enjoyed, a misspent yoof is a wonderful thing, I was that friend and I got battered more times than I got laid,

[Robert Trakofler]

I have had a few beatings myself Gram (usually cause one of my friends stirred the hornets nest) Iron city is an acquired taste by the way and usually drank with a shot of whisky dropped in it shot glass an all Pittsburgh style Tasted just horrible but the words never left my lips for fear of reprisal:)

[Edie Blue Starfish]

Chasing temptation and yet not giving in. Rather like a game of cat and mouse in which the chase is the prize more so than the prize? Interesting poem with colourful imagery.

[gram linski]

Thanks, Edie, not exactly chasing temptation as watch it walk on by without even a sideways glance, the prize was writing it down and have others enjoy, lol

[Edie Blue Starfish]

these things are so hard to interpret sometimes

[Chris Shaw]

This must be more of your drunken yoof. I used to drink too, but mine was far more sophisticated. Dubbonet and lemonade, with a slice of lemon in a nice clean glass, with my little finger being held out gracefully. Yours is straight out of the bottle innit? Maybe yours was drinking to forget in which case I can understand. I didn't have that as an excuse. Bet you had some mighty hangovers on cheap cider. Good to see how the other half lived. I count my blessings.

Chris

[gram linski]

Hey Chris, was more of a cheap wine thrill, not really drinking to forget just kinda sitting watching Friday night roll by, I did have some great times on cheap cider but that is another story, lol

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Diamond white cider was cheep and potent back then as I recall. Sounds like an escape from the drugery of catholic upbringing as by night we used to gather with our mates and just do mate stuff where no one could see us. Perhaps the fish represents religion as you cast it out!

[gram linski]

Perhaps and perhaps not, probably not, to be honest, in fact not, three hammers was the cider drinkers choice back in the day, it does what it says on the label, lol

[jacob erin-cilberto]

wow this is like a hustling roller coaster ride of images depicting those youthful days...the catholic guilt causing us to find other ways of fulfillment...we wanted more of the physical...we wanted skin...but often settled for the bottle instead...getting drunk after Friday mass, knowing the conscience wouldn't hurt as badly...we would just have a hangover.
"Bless me Father for i have..."

j.

[gram linski]

… Haha, loved this review j. we are on the same page, literally, lol