But no one heard--
So I fanned myself with books, and oh
How I burned.
Damn the one who made me feel nothingly small,
This lonesome girl--
Then I spit my anger on a black-curling page,
And blistered the world.
Damn the distance that keeps my love from me,
The miles are sin--
Then I wrote out my love as a pink-fire dawn,
Warm on her skin.
Bless the match that each finger is,
To strike what I feel into words that be
An incendiary flow from soul to sky,
One burned-bright star that's made from...me.
Wow. What a prize. Amazing word crafting, as always.
ReplyDeleteoh you burn it down with your words shay...fingers as matches nice...
ReplyDeleteno pork rinds though...smiles.
Is that you, Elvira? A poem is the most certain revenge, though tire treads over History's saddle shoes does have a certain, uh, panache. Emerson said a book should be a ball of fire, and this is a page torn from that potboiler of soul. - B
ReplyDeleteLove the way you've measured out the language in this one, perfectly matched, as it were, to each idea. That quote at the end I'd never heard--it says so much, as does this piece that serves a strong wine of words pressed from the past.
ReplyDeleteyour play of words is amazing and powerful ~
ReplyDeletei can feel it burning right thru the screen ~
This is perfect.
ReplyDeletefrom soul to sky indeed,just beautiful,Shay.
ReplyDeleteLOVE this, especially the last verse!
ReplyDeletethe last verse is killer and i love the idea of fingers as matches! my favorite line ~
ReplyDelete"Then I wrote out my love as a pink-fire dawn,"
gorgeous!
dani ♥
This is a great poem. The last stanza is perfect. We consume ourselves writing words, yet continue to burn.
ReplyDeleteDamn! Hot Damn! The chocolate milk's on me, Poet...damn! :)
ReplyDeleteKeep blistering the world, we need to feel and to empathize. Potent work.
ReplyDeleteWhat a lucky woman I am right now. Shay wrote me a poem.
ReplyDeleteShay wrote me a poem.
Shay wrote me a poem.
I love it. Thank you so much.
Oh, I hear you! Damn indeed..just keep writing! :)
ReplyDeleteWoo-hoo!
ReplyDelete..oh, praise-worthy... congratz Sioux!!!(:
ReplyDelete~Kelvin S. M.
This poem reads like a blazing comet across the night sky.....it singes. It is the most fantastic thing I have read today. You are freaking brilliant.
ReplyDeleteAloha from Waikiki;
ReplyDeleteComfort Spiral
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wow... think of the students you've just inspired... not to mention us. Thank you.
ReplyDeletefantastic and inspiring! Of course, now I have to think of something meaningful for you to write about. Oh, the pressure!
ReplyDeleteAww no! That poor book. What did Ernest Hemingway ever do you?! Granted he can be a bit floral with his descriptors, but man could that cat write...
ReplyDeleteThose first two lines I love, and they set the tone for the entire piece. Oh, and you cracked me up with your comment at my place :)
ReplyDeleteDamn - I'm always a day late and a dollar short! How could I have missed the quiz???
ReplyDeleteLoved this, Shay. I've missed your writing.
The line:
"...I wrote out my love as a pink-fire dawn" - perfection!
I love the symmetry and contrast between "damn the match" and "bless the match" that open and close the poem.
ReplyDeleteDavid
Thankful for the child in us all
ReplyDeleteWow! Fantastic!
ReplyDeletedamn the troubles
ReplyDeletehard they can be
but endure the person
you have become or will be.
The closing stanza just hammered it home! Wonderful write ~ Rose
ReplyDeleteWOW! Your amazing poem just proves all the more who the great poets are...and I'm obviously including YOU! I'm here via Sioux's blog....and she had me believin' the 144 questions until I saw your comment! I am so dang gullible! If I'm not already a follower of yours, I don't know why....I'll have to check!
ReplyDeleteBless the match that each finger is---YES! Print this out and put it on the wall.
ReplyDeleteYes...going on my bulletin board. Next time someone asks me to explain myself, I'll hand over a copy of your right-on-target poem. How did you know?
ReplyDeleteDamn but this is potent stuff!!
ReplyDeleteThe first stanza is as good as anything ever needs to be. It all holds together and gets better and better. Love how you poem, Shay. Always.
ReplyDeleteGay
Love the fire metaphor and the imagery you used to create the flow, and the rhyme. Thanks!
ReplyDeleteI agree--it's perfect. Lucky Sioux.
ReplyDeleteI like the fire burning from these fingers of yours! Keep striking the match.
ReplyDeleteYour fingers truly are matches that create sparkling flames. This tale, distilling at its end the ways of survival resulting from struggling and clawing to higher ground, is incandescent. Loved it. Amy
ReplyDeletePS My Poets United response to the prompt, Grass. Yes, I went there!
http://sharplittlepencil.wordpress.com/2011/07/28/grass/