Monday, November 3, 2008


Art work by Picasso


Like smoke from the
leaves of autumn burning,
my thoughts stratify over
the fields in thick
layers of contemplation.

Only the sound of my voice,
calling out my own name,
cuts through the miasma
and swirls crazily upward,

where it splinters into a
thousand words that shard
down into the ears of the deaf,
echoing like an insidious litany.

Go home now.
It’s too late.
I can’t help you.


Rick said...

I'm so glad to be able to be the first to comment on this. It's so obliquely powerful that I will be thinking about it for the next year. Thank you K. Lawsen

Minister of the Masochistic Truth said...

The last line really makes this piece work - the whole metaphor of smoke, etc. The Picasso piece also adds to the effect of your words. Well put.

rosetta said...

every day occurances that many of us are too busy to notice you feed to us so that we may open our eyes to see and hear life around us. I thank you for the nurishment

Sarah Hina said...

I love the marriage of cubism with the fractured emotion behind the words.

Such a profound feeling of isolation, even alienation, in this one. Being trapped within one's futility. I've been there, and it's not a pretty place. But you describe it so well, K.

Pulling oneself out of a personal chaos is the hardest first step.

trooping with crows said...

There is so much movement to the words in this poem. It's turbulant. When the madness finally takes is how it goes.

K.Lawson Gilbert said...

Rick - Wow, such a wonderful accolade! Thanks so much for your continued support of my work. It means a lot to me.

Minister of the Masochistic Truth,
Welcome to Old Mossy Moon, and thanks for your good comments. I hope you will visit often. :)

Rosetta, your comments are always so endearing. I am happy that you visit here. You always make me feel good, not only about my writing, but about myself. <3

Sarah, I was trying to find a picture to go with the poem. I couldn't find any that really spoke to what I was thinking. Then, I thought about Picasso and his angular works of cubism. (the shards) :)

We do become trapped in what we feel as pointlessness and therefore, feel separated from reason. When I feel that way, I have to stop and re-evaluate what it is I am doing and what I am really all about. Reflection is important.

Trooping with Crows - That is a worthy analysis of this poem. It does move - with thoughts layering, and rising words, falling again in shards, splintering - And, yes, turbulant with swirling and cutting...shards falling, et. al.

Yes, and the madness...

Vesper said...

K., the sombre rhythm of this poem just stays with me, after I read it, and read it, and reread it...
Thank you.

blue possum said...

Beautifully written! I love this poem, K!

K.Lawson Gilbert said...

Vesper, there is a certain seriousness that I tried to convey in the poem. I was in one of those pensive, introspective moods when I wrote it.

I work hard on assonance and rhythm, since I write in *mostly* free verse. Thanks for your good comments. :)

Blue Possum - I wrote this poem in the car - while I was driving!! I kept the pad of paper on my lap. I didn't look down (thankfully for other drivers out there)until I got to where I was going. Well, there was that one red light...Anyway, it looked like a two year old had scribbled on the paper.

Thanks for the visit and nice comment, BP. :D

S.L. Corsua said...

You've effectively portrayed the internal struggle/conflict within the persona, the 'I', in this poem. ;)

I've enjoyed reading all of your poems here, really. Especially the one entitled "Icons" (with its enticing imagery). Cheers.

K.Lawson Gilbert said...

s.l.corsua, I am delighted that you found my poems worth the read. Thank you. I hope you will visit often! K.

blue possum said...

K, I like what you put! Haha! You ARE one in a million!

Anonymous said...

Yet, you persist.

I know that feeling. A gnawing telling you the battle is insurmountable, yet you march on currents you refuse to believe will fail to carry you through. Desire is often too hungry to surrender.

K.Lawson Gilbert said...

Jason - That's what makes life so beautiful. Hmmm...where have I heard that before? Thanks, my friend! ;)

Rob Kistner said...

This had a captivating mystical essence, with engaging imagery.

I especially enjoyed the visual generated by opening stanza...

Image & Verse

K.Lawson Gilbert said...

Rob, Your generous remarks are greatly appreciated. It makes my day when someone enjoys one of my poems. ;)

I hope you will visit here often.