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Analyze This

After much brouhaha over my poem Survivors, I am reluctantly putting out another one for your perusal, but this one has a request: Tell me what it means to you.

albumen

Image via Wikipedia

It is all about you.

Contrary to all of my noon posts for a week, eh? Well, this one truly is about you. When writers show you their creative side, they are offering you the soft spot. You can stroke it gently or sink in a dagger. Either way, the writer gets much-needed input to hone the creative process.

What did you hear?

Communication is rarely an equal opportunity two-way street. More often than not, what we say is interpreted by our recipients into something completely different from what we meant. (Cue game of telephone for giggles.)

Listen with your heart.

Please read the poem with your mind and heart open. Tell me what it says to you.

Interrupted

The hours ebb and flow, though I have
no concept of their passage.
I see only those things I can reach
here in the inky darkness.
Faintly in the distance, I hear the bell,
but daren’t assume it tolls for me.
Yet, still I wonder, if at the other
end you hold my happiness.

Reluctantly, I raise it to my ear,
coaxing only a breathless, timid, “Hello?”
Warmth engulfs my body and soul as
your sultry voice purrs into my ear.
“Hello, my love,” and my eyes close
tightly, conjuring your face before them.
I feel your embrace for a moment before
it fades chilly away without you here.

As I put down the phone, an overwhelming
emptiness replaces your warmth.
My soul so desolate the desert seems
lush, should you choose to compare.
Was I right to torment myself with
what I cannot have?
To punish us both for the precious
time we fleetingly share?

Would only the chance present itself
where we could ride away
With the top down, we would drive
toward the mountain skies,
Stopping only to drink in the natural
beauty, inevitably interrupted
By our own desire, slaked only when
locked in each others’ eyes.

Davis Mountains., Texas, USA.

Image via Wikipedia

Author’s Note: If you enjoyed this poem at all, please visit its original home and vote/rate accordingly.


© Red Dwyer 2011
Reblogging of this or any other post on The M3 Blog is expressly forbidden.
Copyright and Privacy Policy available in The Office. 



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30 Comments

  1. Seems like Deja vu. We had this conversation the other day. Seems many thought the same as me. Love you, Grant

    Reply
  2. Just as I thought, an interesting set of ideas
    being offered here, I hope that there will be
    some more as peeps call in for a browse 🙂

    I hope that your day has
    been a wicked one Red 🙂

    Androgoth XXx

    Reply
    • Truly it has. I think one of my favorite interpretations came to my inbox from a lad who was ashamed of his assessment. I am hoping more of my followers will be passing this along to their krewes for perusal. I am headed to your space for the nightly offering. Hope you are off to a wicked day, my friend, Red. xxx

      Reply
  3. OK, I am daring myself to guess before reading other readers’ comments. I see a person in a hospital bed, floating in and out of consciousness, separated from loved ones, perhaps away at war? The connection to life is tenuous. Compelling and intriguing. Vivid imagery. Thank you for sharing.

    Reply
    • I love the different interpretations! And thank you for the compliment, Red. PS There is not a “right” answer…unless you are inside my head 😉

      Reply
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