Driftwood

The wind whispers, and the words are rain.

The moon is brushing her silver hair;

and I am cleaved by the joy and pain

that shape my world, my spirit, my air.

I am a gypsy, a mystery,

the moon is brushing her silver hair;

and all the things that are meant to be

will ever be as they will or do.

I am a gypsy, a mystery,

a breath that dissolves into the blue;

and dreams will drift and be on their way,

will ever be as they will or do

until shadows stain and sorrows sway

until sweet promises fade for good,

and dreams will drift and be on their way

forever floating like drift to wood.

The wind whispers, and the words are rain

until sweet promises fade for good

and I am cleaved by the joy and pain.

Author's Note

Reviews

[CD Campbell]

Not an easy write for sure. You pulled it off though. Feel like writing free verse yet? Haha, dont answer that. I've written villanelles in the past and have gotten mixed reviews. What is this? A terzanelle? Someone said " hey! Let's take a villanelle and complicate it." I can imagine everyone in the room throwing their beer bottles at em. It doesn't seem to be a form for the faint of heart. Trying to put puzzle pieces together that dont want to go together.

Seems that being mysterious, gypsy like, has it's ups and its downs. We embrace certain aspects of ourselves out of natural necessity. Doesn't mean that there isn't a drawback to that choice, but we gamble hoping the joy of it outweighs the pain of it. But there will be a destiny if one believes in it. This is another great poem of yours.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Correct! It's a Terzanelle. If you ever want to challenge yourself just for the fun of it, write a trilogy: Villanelle, Terzanelle, and Terza Rima. It's actually fun to do a series, one right after the other, using these three forms.

Your second point is correct as well. We embrace what we have to, as life necessitates. :-)

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

I did this with the following three poems: Night Blossoms Black (Villanelle), In The Black (Terzanelle), and Blood Is The Rose (Terza Rima).

[DAH]

To be "cleaved by the joy and pain" is the way of life, and all of us are on the same
path to this cleaving. There's no doubt that you are feeling the weight a bit more and releasing these feelings byway of this poetic diction.

Bravo, Poet!
DAH

[barleygirl]

This form reminds me of villanelle, which I don't like becuz repetition is distracting to me. But your poem is stated in such gauzy terms, without a clear progression of ideas, but more a diaphanous cluster of feelings & visions floated out to the reader . . . so repetition is barely noticeable. "I am cleaved by the joy & pain" is a well-crafted phrase, stunning, how much it conjures up the sensation of being moved to joyful grief & all that goes with it, along with equally stunning artwork! (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Eilis]

You have a lovely dream-like quality to your work. I like the way you explore emotions and experience through the lens of nature.

Sometimes the easiest way to understand ourselves is to try and imagine we are something else. Or to create other worlds where we imagine time moving differently.

This is another lovely poem.

[Kelly Scheppers]

This is poetry of the finest caliber, unlike anything I've read before in my ten years of being here!

[Nerio]

An intriguing ballad, dense of mysterious images and references to (a sort of) natural mysticism. An hymn to romanticism, an invitation to get lost in the unconceiveable circle of Life, wherever it could lead us...
You make a powerfull transfert betwen the human being and a piece of floating wood, lost in a current: it is clear, even if never explicit (and therefore more effective for the reader). Like saying: we are but prone to terrible forces which we cannot resist, no matter how good we are at reacting. You summon a lot of clashing feelings: the rapture for what is beauty in the world (winds alive as persons, rains meaningfull as words, a moon as a fairy brushing her hair etc...), the pain of being divided between unbalanced emotions, a sort of rassegnation for what happens (and always will do) in our existence. In front of all those things, your soul is lost but alltogether seems to accept her doom: with admiration and longing. Just like a gipsy: without a home and aware of the fact that there is no real home.
It takes a lot of courage to accept life as it is: a fierce ride on the river, untill the monstrous waterfall. Well, you do. And with a mature poetic style, which does not lack musicality and elegance.
As far as I've read, your best piece of work. Brava :)

[Dionysian Gnostic]

I've often felt like driftwood and somewhat like a gypsy. It almost seems like we don't quite have the level of control we think we have over our lives at times. Some people like the "drift" and describe themselves as spontaneous while I think others probably cringe at the idea of not having any true direction. Your poem had a soothing effect on me oddly enough. Something about the moon brushing her lovely hair makes me feel content.

[Samuel Dickens]

Your lovely words are a fine compliment to the marvelous carving. I'm reminded of all the driftwood I saw on beaches in Washington state. Who knew where it had been, but each piece revealed a unique journey.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, Samuel. The carved talking stick inspired me so much. When I wrote this poem, however, I was unsettled with it as it did not convey what I truly felt. So, I did what I rarely do and did a complete rewrite - Driftwood II. I think it's much better than this version.

[Strider Marcus Jones]

Hints of Tennyson. Lovely imagery and rhythm. Poignant truths in the last stanza. Excellent poem. 100/100

[Brittany Zedalis]

This is my favorite kind of poetry. The kind that just draws you in and carries you along like the wind. I absolutely love this.

~Luna