Description: Why is it that even when I'm in a good mood, it comes out as a bit of a bummer. In real life, I'm nowhere near this brooding, I don't think.
cold stone wakes me
with comforting stabbing on the soles of my sockless feet
while my breath hangs before me for a moment
before drifting away on crisp air
the birth of a cumulous cloud
visible vapor taking flight
the sun hides its face still
behind a thick veil of formless grey
children play, far removed from me
voices muted by the distance
and the sound of nature singing
a morning of dismal beauty
a moment of quiet happiness before the day's assault
To me this just sounds like waking early in the morning to a new day, full of promise, but also dread, everything that makes up everyday. The contradictions you speak of add to this feeling of give and take, ebb and tide...There is hope in the children playing, but it is in the distance, still hope all the same. Interesting to be sure...
the second time I read it, I found that it has more good thoughts and feelings instead of the sadness of gloom that I found during the first read.......... I dont know about the beauty in the 'dimal, but.......... '
I liked this piece- it captures the moment of getting early and starting your day quiet well. As you alluded to in your description, the poem seems to convey an image of bleakness and despair. I gather this is not what you were aiming for, but it does make for an interesting read. Moreover a reader can make their own interpretations from the poem, such is the way you've described the moment (such as 'children play, far removed from me' signifying aging and adulthood). One thing I would suggest is that you use caesura and enjamblement (using midline punctuation and 'carry-on lines') in the piece, as it seems to be a bit rigid and static with each line somewhat isolated from the next.
If you were trying to write a poem that rejoices in the morning...you've failed abysmally (every line has elements that convey a pessimistic view!) but if you were exploring the nature of waking up and having to face a new day you've come up with an insightful piece. Well written.
jeez, this sounds like many of my mornings... that cold stone floor on the feet (altho now i have carpet!). it's interesting that you find the stabbing "comforting," but i get that to mean you are reminded that you are still alive! "dismal beauty" is a unique image... you can find beauty in almost anything, really, dismal as it may be. "assult" should be "assault."
the title reminds me of when i was a teenager, and my brother would sneak into my room early early and play Reveille on his trumpet!! aauuuggghhh!!
i liked this poem. it's cold and crisp and has good visuals (your breath in the air, the children in the distance).
Submission Name: Reveille
