Moving home

The midnight flit

              the Anarchist

rolled up his sleeping

           bag

and followed       the wind

      unwanted poems

discarded.    left behind

like scattered

seashell

shards

             upon the shore,

  waiting to be washed

       away by sea

Reviews

[Eilis]

The format makes me think of sea grasses. Some of those dancing, living fire kinds of grasses that hold on to the refuse we leave behind. So, even though the scene isn't necessarily one on the beach, man facing the shore and then turning away, there is a sense that it is, and that parts of him are left behind to tell a story.

You've mentioned in reviews/replies your sleeping rough in a cave and on the streets of France and that that wasn't a thing you regretted but that you treasured. So, I am reading this in that context. And it seems that (in the universe of this poem) the things that are easiest to leave behind are the things that act as placeholders of memory or emotion. That's, of course, just my own fancy when I think about the 'unwanted poems,' but there it is, and that's what I'm walking away with.

Sometimes I say too much. I can't help it. In reading poems, I am also learning to read and understand myself, so it's an impulse. Your poems are a great universe to explore. There are things I understand mixed with things that are foreign to me, so, I enjoy the way it all comes together in my head.

[gram linski]

Hey Eilis great thoughtful review once again, be careful exploring my Universe there are some dark twisted edges and hidden black holes along the way, don.t know if you got my email about Joshua Burnside spent a fine afternoon watching him play a folk festival, some great harmonies and melodies, loved Desert wine and Blood drive, finished with an acoustic punk number. didn't catch the title but I did jump about a bit,

[Eilis]

Glad you enjoyed that I think I’m driving everyone crazy listening to it. I’ll have to see if I can find the festival you’re talking about. Or some other. I didn’t get that email. Must have gotten eaten by the bytes along the way. Ah, that’s a bad joke.

[gram linski]

terrible. sure it was in county Mayo. Ireland, check out Christy Moore, viva la quinta briganda while you are at it,

[Eilis]

I’ll check that out, yep. Thanks for the lead

[Beccy]

Take your pick from the shelves of the Anarchist's supermarket; 'la camaraderie amoureuse' would be an interesting choice perhaps, though it might raise eyebrows at the checkout. :))

As for moving home, no matter the distance, the poetry cannot be left behind.

Beccy.

[gram linski]

aye I would imagine so, lol, thanks for the read, Beccy, it is sometimes good to empty your brain of all the s**t, then fill it back up again lol,

[barleygirl]

With YET ANOTHER school shooting (in California!) on my mind, I'm envisioning my guess as to the mental profile of the misfit who does a mass shooting of his schoolmates, as I read your poem. I see these misfits as acting out in a rageful way with their violent act, but in reality, most seem to be meek & fragile, unassuming as people remember them afterwards. You use spot-on imagery to paint a sense of "giving up" . . . or "going home" . . . since most of these school shooting end up with the shooter dead (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[gram linski]

wow, that was a dark affair, heard about the shooting on the news, this was far more light hearted than that

[barleygirl]

I think the word "anarchist" does not make this feel lighthearted from the start (for me, at least) . . .

[gram linski]

ah, the original meaning of Anarchist not the b*****d version we know now, hugs fondly, Margie,

[R.E. Ray]

Reads like the perfect cleansing, gram! I think the sea is a blessing, washing away all the refuse we leave behind... thoughts, regrets, even some poems, too. Good chaotic structure, too.

[gram linski]

thanks Ray, aye moving home can be cleansing, you can leave all your unwanted s**t behind, and let the next tenant deal with it, lol

[jacob erin-cilberto]

but he still wonders....where exactly is home?
and have all of his beliefs washed away with the tide?
i can imagine all of these homeless people on the shore collecting the poems....
and putting them in trash bags...never knowing the value they could hold.
j.

[gram linski]

or the s**t within their hands, haha, thanks, j.