Description: I don't know about this one either. You say something, and it just dies. I wish words showboated like leaves do. I don't think you can ever recount something said long ago perfectly. Memories are murky. That's part of it.
I'll likely delete this.
Words Die -------------------------------------------
If only spoken words died
as beautifully as leaves,
blazing as they fizzle,
but they dully die into silence
briefly after mixing with the breath
escaping your beauteous lips
with nothing analogous
to autumn's bright death throes.
Memory corrupts them
with its mingling and decay
until only poor reproductions remain possible,
but the emotions to which they're tethered
remain ice pick sharp.
the leaves...the leaf imagry and comparison is gorgeouse. It also ends extremely well: a beatifully created, gloriously concise, single thought. My only problem with it is that perhaps you should drop tyhe adjective beautiouse. It doesn't quite fit.
Hi, me again, Hanuman from New Zealand. Thought I'd read your poetry as a return favour. Love what I've read so far. Will mark this as a favourite so I can find you and read the rest later. I also wrote a poem once about the death of words which I append here and might submit one day.
Poetry is the most ephemeral art. It is based on vagabond words. Those lean and hungry jackals That feast on my entrails of thought, Scatter to the four winds And defecate in the desert. My meanings sublime sublime To chalky shards of [censored] and lime Without the slightest scent of sense Or odour of feelings once intense. A word is a single mote of dust Dancing in a beam of light. My poetry, my rich emotion Is simply random Brownian motion, Updraught chaff in a granary. Momentarily it twirls and shines In a vortex context understood. Then disappears from view, Out of sight, out of global mind, A sheet of dandruff sloughed To lie in drifts under bed, Its meaning dry, discarded, dead.
I like this... I'm a bit divided over the line "blazing as they fizzle." On one side, I look for the blaze, the fire, and then the fizzle. I think that trees and their fire-hues in autumn could be the blaze, but just don't see how leaves can fizzle. Words fizzle out, no doubt. But that line, with the buzzy "Z" sounds, thrills my phonetic appreciation all the same. See, you can have a blazing argument, and say something terrible, and those words that can never be recaptured and taken back will fizzle out and die, but will not be forgotten. While leaves decay dully, in silence!
I dunno, I've a lot of conflict with this piece but my first read, and each subsequent, likes this. I LIKE it, depsite the fact that I don't agree with some of your phrasings.
I don't like the double repetition of mingling and decay, tho. Overall... it's giving out to me a fair bit, but I'm not listening. I like it!
I think Learah's right. leaves decay in silence. but at the same time their death is beautiul and your "blazing as they fizzle" line fits somehow. it depends on how you want to look at it I think. just leave it as it is. it sounds great. the repetition of "mingling and decay" is okay. you don't have to replace it by something else. overall it's a great poem. I like it very much.
I find looking back, as a much oooolder person, that the memory plays tricks with us. If you try to remember specifics about something it kinda crumbles up like old newspaper, maybe a way of saying that our memories can't be relied on to give us accurate accounts. But if the memories just flow freely into view, they are usually more vivid and enhanced, including the words, than they were as originals. Our minds way of convincing us that our lives were spent, unless of course you're remembering mistakes..
what a beautiful poem. your true depth shines through. the opening lines " If only spoken words died As beautifully as leaves " almost make me want to cry. not with sadness though, but with the sweet bite of nostalgia. bellisimo, wunderbar, pragtig, brilliant.
This really hits home with me because I have trouble remembering specific words, whether it be from a movie, a poem or a long past argument. I can however always remember the feeling of it. I can remember if it was ugly or pretty, sincere or trivial. For instance, I can remember a consequential fight I had years ago with my wife that led to a profound change in our relationship. The exact words have become twisted (perhaps even exaggerated) or forgotten altogether, which is odd since I can still feel the pain as they "Remain ice pick sharp"...I hope you don't delete this. I think it's stands up well with the rest of your collection.
Please don't delete this poem. Ever. It has a certain magic in the way you've used the crazy feeling of not remembering exactly what was said but feeling your heart ripped out of your body nonetheless and compared it to leaves fading and dying. It adds a very unique touch to the whole idea. I wouldn't change anything.
i see your point in using "blazing," as in bright colors blazing... like the tree is ablaze with color. it fits. the bright and beautiful colors stay in the memory, whereas words often mingle with our poor memory of what was said since emotions get into the way so easily and we can turn it over and over in our head until it barely resembles what was really said.
But the emotions To which they're tethered Remain ice pick sharp
Spoken words are like a burning cigarrette, there for only a little while and then the smoke rings dissapate and you try to recall the diameter of it. Sometimes I think its better they fade away. There are the words that scar the permeable tissue of our brains. Don't delete this piece, I think it would be a tradgedy if you did.-John