Journal — April 9, 2017 — love, learning
I expanded the poem from the last entry into four stanzas.
As before, first comes the poetry, and then comes the commentary.
under your feet the world turns right
along with every step you take
another breath out of my chest
drawn tight just like all of the rest
of you in that red dress so bright
in my eyes forever awake
to see the neverending curve
across your hips I live to serve
that look I saw there on your face
belies a mind of gravid grace
to know the vastness of the thought
that drew the corner of your mouth
up when they said we all are God
I only want to find some way
inside the truth within your world
to see the soul behind unfurled
you laugh at every joke I hide
between the words I try to find
the mind to say the way I feel
this universe as one whole body
always dying to be born
from nothing all creation torn
a part of it beside of me
you are the all and all are we
with you I always seem to be
a half beat off from harmony
in contact with the surface of
a heaven somewhere far above
this earth where we try to survive
despite our ignorance and strife
and pain beyond all measure
I still want to live to stay in love
I feel the need to say: as much as I personally like it, I don’t think this is particularly good poetry. Even I can see it’s rubbish on a technical level, and I don’t know enough about poetry to tell a pentameter from an anceps.
Still, I like it. That’s different from most of the creative writing I’ve done, and it’s another point in common with Their Love Is Like This.
I wrote it as an experiment, and I’d call that experiment a success, now. It’s good to know I can still make art, when I set my mind to it. I have no intention to become a poet, though.