Uncategorized

I Think I’ll Let It Stay

IN the wall

I see an image

of a man

in my wall.

 

Bricks breathe

shapes

I recognize.

 

I broke a mirror

that used to hang

where this face takes shape.

 

I still wear the scar.

 

I’m no match,

now,

for the wall;

too strong for what I have left,

or

I would crush this sight

as well.

 

Yet,

 

he,

or it,

comes unarmed;

silent –

no knife,

no stringed instrument,

no song.

 

A silent growth

from my brick wall;

a stain of pain now hushed.

 

Ah,

I’ve lost my mind I must.

A ghost it is

without rattled chain or scream.

A silent visitor.

But from where?

The past?

The present?

Or a future state of both?

 

But why so familiar?

This vision,

and while I’m drawing

too?

So strange.

 

It’s hard in the dark to draw anything new

with no view

and just a brick wall for canvas

in a darkened room

alone

and only charcoal left

to create anew.

 

Is this vision ash remains,

or ash coming to life?

 

So many questions.

But this face?

This face?

I think I’ll let it stay?

Yes,

I think I’ll let it stay.

Advertisements
Standard

24 thoughts on “I Think I’ll Let It Stay

  1. I will confess to similar scars, Henry…but my walls were made with plaster. Love the madness…the working through…fiction is an addiction…but I love to stomp through messy truths…find kindred spirits with minds as effed as my own. 😉 If I were you, I’d let it stay, because it’s quite honestly fantastic!

  2. wow…from the broken mirror to your drawing…the face that is there…i like the acceptance in the end…and the feeling that we could not make it go away if we tried…

  3. Beautiful drawing and reflection of the face, the mirror of our soul, perhaps it is a stranger, but strangely familiar….we see what we hope and want to see ~
    A pleasure tor read this ~

  4. wow..the struggle of light and darkness within so exquisitely and stirringly delivered here..enjoyed reading and re-reading..truly poetic and memorable, this~

  5. I enjoy how there is a felt sense of plummeting into the questions by the form this takes on, adds so much to the isolation that surrounds the emphasis. Love your words and thank you for you always kind remarks to mine ❤ Send love and peace ~ Rose

  6. Love the self-portrait metaphor – a self emerging, a ghost of time past, present or future. Leonardo said he learned to draw by seeing figures in the cracks of his ceiling and copying the lines and curves – turning them into art. I think you have constructed art here.

  7. the dynamic really takes shape henry. The outro is significant and strong and leaves the reader with something to haunt over for a good while after the intial scanning. all the best

  8. I love your imagery here and your metaphoric content reals with sincerity and love. beautiful piece—“A silent growth from my brick wall; a stain of pain now hushed”

  9. I enjoy what you did with this, Henry…those images we discover in textures. But the amazing this is how you’ve taken it and developed such a deep reflection, creating a layered, textured poem, too.

  10. I like all of this, Henry, but the words that stop me each time are:” It’s hard in the dark to draw anything new

    with no view…”

    Yes, hard, but not impossible, for even in the dark, we draw, create, play with words, paint the vision we learn to see without light.

    Well done!

  11. People love this poem. But I got to tell you Henry, I had to stop trying to read it 1/3 through — click my name to find out why. I think perhaps it is my weirdness — others seem to love it.

  12. So I have decided to do the unmentionable — I condensed this poem so I could actually read it without tons of scrolling. So that I could remember the lines. I really enjoyed the poem that way.

    BTW, when I did my post on centered poems, many folks privately e-mailed me saying they agreed, but they would not say so in the comments.

    Anyway, I loved the poem but would have skipped over it if I had not done the following. (nicely written, Henry)

    ____________

    I see an image of a man in my wall.
    Bricks breathe shapes I recognize.
    I broke a mirror that used to hang where this face takes shape.
    I still wear the scar. I’m no match, now, for the wall;
    too strong for what I have left,
    or I would crush this sight as well.

    Yet, he, or it, comes unarmed;
    silent –
    no knife,
    no stringed instrument,
    no song.

    A silent growth from my brick wall;
    a stain of pain now hushed.

    Ah, I’ve lost my mind I must.
    A ghost it is without rattled chain or scream.

    A silent visitor. But from where?
    The past?
    The present?
    Or a future state of both?

    But why so familiar?
    This vision, and while I’m drawing too?
    So strange.

    It’s hard in the dark to draw anything new with no view
    and just a brick wall for canvas in a darkened room
    alone and only charcoal left to create anew.

    Is this vision ash remains,
    or ash coming to life?

    So many questions.
    But this face? This face?
    I think I’ll let it stay?
    Yes, I think I’ll let it stay.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s