Saturday, September 11, 2021

Blue Flame

 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 Blue Flame


I was the woman who
loved you hotter than a sun
hard as a granite gravestone
once,
but time has chosen to
braid me differently, tying years
into grey knots

behind which the crimson
of memory
coagulates and fails
making it seem as if there
is not, never was,
love as stubborn as a pebble in a shoe
piercing every step.

A parody of a woman
rolled in a circus tent, lurches like
a wheelbarrow when she walks,
from the pebble, from the weakness, from the void.
Her flesh sags like a
campfire marshmallow melting
on the stick.

Yet in the mirror gateway
my eyes avoid, sometimes a flash;
the high snow-swept cheekbones of that girl,
the sunburnt hair longer than winter,
the bell glass body moon-rounded, glowing
a blue flame within, feeling
your touch so
 
fluent in flourishes of stars;
 
 
 love as sharp as thirst
unquenchable.
 
 
 
September 2021 









 
 
 
posted for
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Images via internet, authors unknown    Fair Use
 
 

32 comments:

  1. Oh my. This poem just destroyed some protective layer where my heart sleeps. Mercy. The best poetry describes our true heart with a scathing understanding that has to be lived, and demands a difficult degree of honesty one rarely finds. This didn't move me, it shoved me, then caught me. You should be proud of this poem on a number of levels, dear Joy.

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    1. Thanks dear. You blew me away with yours as well.

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  2. Oh my goodness! So many images flashed while reading this poem. No words to express what I felt reading each line. Take a bow, Joy!

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  3. The lines about life braiding one differently, grey knots, the crimson of memory really spoke to me. "Love as stubborn as a pebble in my shoe" is so perfect! And then your culminating final stanza, where my heart lifted off and took a turn or two around the room remembering that golden girl, those cheekbones, the flourishes of stars. Just wow, Joy.

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    1. Thank you, dear Sherry, for always being such a generous reader.

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  4. One of your absolutely finest Joy!! This poem is full of lines that capture so much! I want to quote everything that Sherry has already mentioned. I know you hate these kinds of descriptions, but it is truly breathtaking!! This is what amazing poetry is!!!!!

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    1. Thank you, Carrie, and thanks for hosting.

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    2. You are very welcome Joy. I actually came back, because I longed to read this poem again!!

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  5. Wow. Just wow. Braids us, twists us, and knots us in the history of flesh and love. "A parody of a woman / rolled in a circus tent" is terrific. "your touch so / fluent in flourishes of stars" is brilliant.

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    1. Glad you liked it, qbit, and thanks for reading.

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  6. I feel this one. Its braiding of love, of life, of youth, aging is a novel written in a poem.
    "love as stubborn as a pebble in my shoe piercing every step" just one of the many lines I lvoe.

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    1. A novel written in a poem, indeed. Well-said Susie, and thanks.

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  7. I enjoyed reading your poem. It brings poignant resonant memories to life for me. Favorite line:
    "time has chosen to
    braid me differently, tying years
    into grey knots"

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  8. Time is an illusion in the glass -- I pass by a mirror and wonder, who is that old guy? -- and what we remember and what we think and what we see inside what we think present a tableau of loves and selves which are multiples of both desire and truth. All of that turning here in these reflections of love hot and cold as granite gravestone and melting marshmallow. The poem leaves us unquenchable. Stellar.

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    1. Thanks, B. Yes, who is that person in the mirror? Sometimes I swear I've never met her. She hasn't felt a thing in forever. That's why we have to write, I suppose, to find those quasi-holy/cursed relics of our earlier selves. Thanks for stopping by and taking the time to read--your thoughts and insights are always much appreciated.

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  9. Love this Joy! Braiding of love in gentle twists and turns. It can never be more memorable than that!

    Hank

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  10. The fire image at the beginning was perfect--this entire poem flickers and gleams with life.

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  11. The last stanza stands out for me 'yet in the mirror gateway...' - we are still there, deep inside, underneath the braiding of years.

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  12. "Her flesh sags like a
    campfire marshmallow melting
    on the stick."

    Wow!!! Masterful images

    Good Sunday

    Much💖love

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  13. The story of a woman who has loved .. deeply / completely. And has not forgotten what that felt like, how lovely she was (still is.)

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    1. Thank you, dear Helen. Your poetry has become a joy to me.

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  14. The opening stanza is amazing so filled with poetic magic. Damn that pebble in the shoe. I have had my share.

    It isn’t the mountains ahead to climb that wear you out; it’s the pebble in your shoe.
    -- Muhammad Ali

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  15. Wow. The creativity, sensitivity, imagery in this poem are superb. You wrote what true art is.

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  16. Flourishes of stars! What a love.

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    1. Thank you Marian. Good to see you, and I have been impressed with what you've been posting on FB. So hard to write these days and say something meaningful.

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  17. This is one of the most beautiful poems I have ever read. A standing ovation to you!

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  18. I agree Joy, that writing in these turbulent times seem to only lend those days as subject material.

    On the other hand though the love may grow, or appear less, the memories still burn hot, hot, hot.

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  19. "but time has chosen to
    braid me differently, tying years
    into grey knots

    behind which the crimson
    of memory
    coagulates and fails"

    These lines are powerful images in this 'blue flame' of a poem.

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"We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, out of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry." ~William Butler Yeats