written by David Edwards, re-posted by Robbie Burton
The Trickle
It was a frosty morning, the hoar contained me,
my relationship, encompassed fear,
she might leave me, float into softer fields,
where dandelions look like daffodils.
I didn’t care, I’d had enough, my skin was bare,
the years of self containment, strangled me,
she always knew I would return, protect my den,
I’d waited for her long enough, she was a shadow,
I, a free running hare, why let her capture me,
repair the fallen walls, disparity, her recklessness,
search and seek, discover a trickle of common sense,
imagine buds of love could grow again, or germinate,
but why, why try, to make hawthorn co-exist with holly,
it was time to scythe the ivy of distrust,
those arrows lay too deep inside my heart,
I must allow new, barbs of self respect to sprout,
make love’s suspension disappear, into forgetfulness,
impossible to sleep again on nettles, or yesterday’s thorns.
Written by David Edwards
Great to see you posting a poem, David.
I’ve moved it from General Comments and posted it in the November Workshop category. It’s unlikely that poems will be read if they’re added as comments to old posts.
Now to read it!
Lots of mixed metaphors here, David. If maybe you could choose one and run with it, and at the same time anchor the reader’s attention with concrete images, then the poem would seem more real.
I like the ‘frosty morning’ and ‘sleep again on nettles or yesterday’s thorns’, they’re images I can relate to.
It might be worth having a look at the way Jane Hirshfield writes about a relationship:
http://www.poetryarchive.org/poem/what-binds-us
I did like the end line of this poem – and( unlike Robbie and her ‘get rid of the last line’ statements!!) I think you should move this to the start of the poem and let your feelings unfurl from there, trying to keep your nature images down to only a few. But well done, it’s quite clear what you’re trying to say. Jane Kenyon is a good poet to look at too – she expresses herself with remarkable simpicity and is very moving in what she writes.