I MEASURE OUR BOND'S EVOLUTION

12 13 13

I measure our bond's evolution

in seasons

for no other unit does justice

to finding a moment that

I can equate to the time

I would be so afraid of

a time such as this

A time much colder than July

when she was omnipresent as the Sun

lounging in the powder blue

penthouse of Summer

By the time the trees began

to forfeit their identity

anniversaries were taking shape

Milestones soon became unspoken

Knowledge evolved into sympathy

Instinctual became remembrances

I play a fool's game

fishing in our lake of memories

intent on giving catapult height

to a single moment

arching it around the everyday

banter that is now brittle

as the leaves that have settled

near the edge of the

encroaching canopy of ice

Time I waste

in a quest to pinpoint

a moment that emblazoned

her hiatus

searing my already boiled sight

drowning in the hot springs of

frustrated tears

In spite of all the scenic vagaries

I consume through the eddies of

our learned little ways

her presence endures

like the strobe of a street lamp

barging through a tassel

of swaying trees

Every little flicker mimicking

a memory of frantic fingertips

desperate to crystallize a quip

before second thoughts simmered

over the projected

wit therein

Whenever the wind may wilt

and my window reverts

to my semblance of a writing desk

I'll be made aware

of the more methodical

exchanges cemented

by the cycle of sorrow that

juggles our memories

like a tear-fueled watermill

Reviews

[David Scott]

I would have a hard time highlighting any one section of this very fine poem. I enjoyed the "penthouse of summer", the "fishing in our lake of memories", and the "tear-fueled watermill" segments the most.
Overall, I felt like I could hear a voice mournful with the knowledge of the good and the sorrow. Accepting what is and thankful for what was, still willing to see what could become.
Beautifully penned Khan!
I am so glad you stopped by my page and reminded me, by your presence, to look in on your fine work.

[kublakhan27]

Thanks so much David, you essentially nailed it with your observations...above all it is a mournful piece...I haven't been really active in the last week or so but I'm trying to catch up...it'll probably take forever but I have started ;) So glad you enjoyed this one.

[Pete Langley]

You`ve roamed through seasons of melancholy here, Steve. Your angst is tangible and the yearning for empathy - and the memory of that yearning - is plain in the imagery, but I have to admit to finding some of your similes overworked , which obscured the kernel of the piece. I think this piece needs a little work, but has the potential of a very strong piece. P.

[kublakhan27]

Thank you Pete...I've been in a muddled period for a while now and this was forced to an extent. I don't know where my sense of inspiration has gone but it's getting to my head. If this one has a sense of urgency about it, that's why. Hopefully it returns soon...I'm extremely due.

[Jack...]

Steve, this was a wild ride through your mind, twists and turns, sharp and steep. You capture the essence of a relationship, romance in the days we count by the wether they produce. There is a meloncholy feel to this that washes over the soul as I read. The last line completely blew my mind...'like a tear-fueled watermill. That is way off the charts cool. You are amazing my friend.

[kublakhan27]

Thanks so much my friend. This one means a lot to me...it took some kind of effort to get it out, and I wasn't sure if I ever would. Even now, as I ponder on it, I'm hurting for words to explain the things that were going through my head when I wrote it, and the things that return to my head whenever I read it back to myself. But all things considered, this one probably speaks for itself. So glad you enjoyed this one.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

this is quite a write...the evolution of the relationship itself, and the evolution to the time of being able to write about it...

that transition is exposed so well here through your use of seasons...she was july in winter...but now in winter, i just have memories, and they can't warm me like when she was actually with me...

i am feeling cold in my thoughts. the cycle...the watermill (really nice image there, as it spills tears and they blow away...as memories do also...they are first tears and then those tears are blown away in the wind....and what is left?

the poem....the poem that represents those seasons of a love once felt so strongly in the flesh and heart...now more in the memories of the mind.

[kublakhan27]

You've summed it up perfectly my friend. When I'm struggling as I've been struggling in the recent weeks, I gain some solace in the reliability of the seasons. We may like certain seasons more than others, but there is comfort in every one. As long as there are seasons, there is a future...it may be blurred by the occasional blizzard or downpour, but just knowing that the Sun is there is something to build hope on. Thank you Jacob.

[TL Boehm]

A time much colder than July
when she was omnipresent as the Sun
lounging in the powder blue
penthouse of Summer
By the time the trees began
to forfeit their identity

I just found myself stopping there. Savoring that passage. Eloquent. Exquisite. You are a poet and a story teller

[kublakhan27]

Thanks so much TL, your support truly means a lot :)