I lost the end of myself somewhere near the start,
among the scattered sheets of blotting paper
sprung up on iron girder stalks.
Parchment alliums staked out like skeletons,
petals more like teeth,
poems in the stems of them,
but no air for the words to breathe.
Between the leaves the stanza’s curled,
coppered, golden, burnt and burnished,
rhythm rolling hollow in the echos,
tongue twisted through the skirmish
as syllables clattered in and out
silver toothed, thick lipped, broken.
Turned over once, then twice, then thrice,
poetic promised poured and stolen.
Carol J Forrester 
Sure to attract a poet!! Well done.
This was quite the literary ride! Very enjoyable to read!
Nice line: “Parchment alliums staked out like skeletons”
How delightful! All the words were jumping about here😃
My fav: “…syllables clattered in and out
silver toothed, thick lipped, broken…”
I love the recursive: “I lost the end of myself somewhere near the start,” Also… I think the very fact that this all means enough to be a battle, a skirmish, means there is breathing, I don’t hear anything that rings hollow here. But then, the task was to write for only what the intended soul-mate would understand, so what do I know? I love the cascading adjectives! (the exclamation point means I really really do love 😉 it), “coppered, golden, burnt and burnished” Is a poet an alchemist that turns copper to gold, or is the poet a fraud that merely sells us that what is burnt is burnished? Not a fraud, I think, rather a prophetess.
I think a lot of folks lose themselves near the start…but hopefully find themselves again down the road!
dwight
There’s so much to love about this poem, Carol. 🙂 I especially love the imagery in:
‘Parchment alliums staked out like skeletons,
petals more like teeth,
poems in the stems of them,
but no air for the words to breathe’;
and the sound of:
‘rhythm rolling hollow in the echos,
tongue twisted through the skirmish
as syllables clattered in and out’
and
‘poetic promised poured and stolen’.
very nice poem and the words were so delectable!
your imagery is wonderful, I am fairly certain you would have a poet looking for you too 🙂
I wonder if the poem is the poet or the poet is the poem… I think it’s both,
“I lost the end of myself somewhere near the start” …great and oh so relatable line. Wonderful word artistry.
Thank you very much.
Late to reading – sigh. Too much travel and company!
Carol, I liked so much about this write. The title is intriguing to me .. a seed signifying potential for growth, with the purpose of growth — but stone: cold, inert, hard, sometimes unmovable…and then the first line that IS the rest. Some wonderful imagery as well.
Good! Be sure to try and read/comment on some of the other poems too.
Will do. Just having a busy week.
Tell me about it. My kids have been so needy this week, I’m only now getting around to reading/responding. Take care.