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A Deeper Etch

the-widow
Breathe in
Breathe out
Every tick reaches a new goal
Sets another
Coffee was good yesterday
A joke about my butt jiggle
His snoring
The depth of wrinkles when we laugh
Creases of love
A thump on the pantry floor
An escaping silence choked my throat
creases became crevasses
Etched deeper in a second
A thump’s echo
A donkey’s hind legs
Kick my stomach
Woosh
My life escapes in fleeting bursts of storm
that silent weather change
you know
that sneeks and creeps
and slaps your face with cold fingers so suddenly
I try to breathe
I live by seconds
Between the silence
The pain of ticks
Breathe in
Breathe out
My eyes lie
Tell tales of untruth
A dream stuck in drive
No breaks
A mountainous road
Too close to the cliff
Tires screaming
Screeching in protest
Why doesn’t the alarm start buzzing
Why can’t I smell coffee brewing
It’s a case of grand theft
Someone stole yesterday’s sun
Today’s an imposter

Kelvin is hosting Poetics at dVerse for the first time and he brought some of his artwork to the pub and wants us to write to it in an artistic, impressionistic and suggestive style which he explains in detail in his article that you can check out at http://dversepoets.com/

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27 thoughts on “A Deeper Etch

  1. fang man…intense…fav lines…somebosy stole yesterdays sun todays is an imposter…the whol kicking scene and holding onto life…vivid…the creases of love becoming crevasses as well…very nice…

  2. You have captured grief. “I live by seconds between the silence.” And “someone stole yesterday’s sun.” Deeply profound writing here, Henry.

  3. Oh wow…missing the jokes and snoring… so sad to think on… the ending lines are so powerful..
    .” It’s a case of grand theft
    Someone stole yesterday’s sun
    Today’s is an imposter”

  4. kkkkaty1 says:

    Oh, Like this..the silent weather change, the thump on the pantry floor, so much here to respond to and I did…very moving description of loss and the wear and sadness that go with 😉

  5. …perfectly fit for the woman staring grimaced Henry… the wrinkles… cold fingers…dreams stuck… the stealer of yesterday..— ah all plays so well here… ye know i initially wrote a sonnet for an aging widow where i tackle a tale of stolen beauty but last minute i decided not to offer it but rather instead write another one in free verse.. kind of weird but i almost had your thoughts there… great offering and really enjoyed it…smiles…

  6. Very well done with some powerful phrases and ideas — packed with information. I did not want to write about this woman because of the darkness I saw — I did not want to entertain darkness on my Saturday morning (I see it at work each day). And yet, I am sincerely enjoyed the complexity of this poem — I would not have imagined feeling it this way. Thank you.

  7. Such a good portrayal of grief: the kick to the stomach, the focused breathing, the way time slows. Some very powerful lines of early, unreal, relentless grief, too – “a dream stuck in drive.” So good.

  8. This sent me into many directions all at once. The sense of the familiar and safe then suddenly –

    A thump on the pantry floor
    An escaping silence choked my throat
    creases became crevasses
    Etched deeper in a second

    Acceptance, manipulation

    My eyes lie
    Tell tales of untruth
    A dream stuck in drive

    Terror, spiralling

    No breaks
    A mountainous road
    Too close to the cliff
    Tires screaming
    Screeching in protest

    Breathtaking visual finale

    Someone stole yesterday’s sun
    Today’s is an imposter

    Needless to say, I loved it.

    • What a way with words!
      Brudberg sums it up best.
      You also added a sound to these lines:
      “creases became crevasses” where even without the meaning this adds a dimension. We should do more of that.

  9. Some fantastic lines there – the stealing of the sun, the dream stuck in drive, I live by seconds between the silence… and throughout that aroma of coffee – just brewing, or maybe burning, or maybe missing… Very intense!

  10. Your poem has captured the emotional heaviness of grief, the feeling of always being tired and that today is some kind of sick imitation of yesterday, when things were so much better and all was right in the bereaved person’s world. I love the suddeness of the change too – just a couple of thumps to turn a world upside-down.

  11. Okay…see, good thing I didn’t call favorites too soon. This is a fantastic take on the expression in the painting. The pain, the sorrow, the fear…the twist to almost cliff hanger like ending. If fiction is an addiction, your heart shines through here 😉

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