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    Parker Owens
  • Parker Owens
  • Author
  • 08/23/2016
  • 209 Words
  • 1,154 Views
  • 12 Comments
Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Occasional Poetry - 39. Kristian

i>I thank AC for his kind and generous and indispensable help. But my errors are ever my own.
Kristian
 
Decades have passed since your moon with me, Kris,
thirty long years from the present divide
creaky old bones from a sensuous kiss,
supple enchantment from limbs weak and dried,
emptied of passion which ebbed with the tide,
left with my dreams which no longer enthrall,
asking the question your silence implied:
Could you have possibly loved me at all?
 
Never was spoken that aught was amiss,
nothing in manner or word I descried,
everything perfect, a moment of bliss,
ignorant instant of tears to be cried;
pitiful gratitude could not elide
realization I made your skin crawl,
prompting my spirit to plead as it died,
Could you have possibly loved me at all?
 
Haven't you ever peered down the abyss
darker than knowledge you coolly denied;
bottomless cavern of creatures that hiss,
sapient serpents wave secrets aside
leaving you naked with no place to hide,
coverless, save on our friendship to call;
both of us begged, yet as fools we replied:
Could you have possibly loved me at all?
 
Scars of old age, I may count you with pride;
yours were the first, as I seem to recall,
never another admitted inside;
Could you have possibly loved me at all?
 
I sincerely hope you will comment or reflect on this poem; anything you say is appreciated.
Copyright © 2017 Parker Owens; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Parker Owens
On 08/24/2016 06:13 AM, AC Benus said:

A complex, rich and completely satisfying Ballade; you breath life into the form and make it ache with you.

 

Bravo!

Ache is a good word here. The poet clearly feels it still. I thank you for prodding me to take the challenge. There is something very gratifying to seeing it all fall into place. Your kudos are kind/to a man of my mind, Thanks.

Parker Owens
On 08/24/2016 11:18 AM, skinnydragon said:

Your wringing words draw on the fabric of lost love itself.

They twist and weave and wrench and leave us in the throes of anguish.

 

Unfortunately, too well done. If you had been a little clumsy, it would have distracted the reader. :(

 

Very excellent work, as usual, Parker!

Not an easy poem to write, or to read, and I am a little sorry for that. Ballade is a potent form, I find, and once started, hard to rein in. Thank you for responding to this, and for reading Occasional Poetry.

Parker Owens
On 08/24/2016 09:33 PM, Emi GS said:

The sadness and the ache have been beautifully presented here. You have summoned the inner feeling of lost and sadness about love and perfectly written it into this lovely poem.

 

You have done well, as usual Parker... :)

 

~Emi.

Thanks, Emi. It was difficult to write, and suddenly, the images came rushing to mind, demanding to be put down. Heartache demanding to be committed to paper, it seems. Thanks for your kind words, and for responding to this one.

Headstall

Looking back... something we avoid when it recalls the pain... but impossible, in the end, not to do. In our recollections, we oft believe it was our shortcomings that contributed. Those removed would more likely think it was youth, or not being ready at the same time. You've cast a backwards glance here, and I can see it still eats at your soul. I understand that, but the past is the past, and I hope this helps you let much of it go... a wonderful but sad journey you took me on, triggering my own 'whatifs'... kudos and cheers... Gary....

Parker Owens
On 08/25/2016 02:34 AM, Headstall said:

Looking back... something we avoid when it recalls the pain... but impossible, in the end, not to do. In our recollections, we oft believe it was our shortcomings that contributed. Those removed would more likely think it was youth, or not being ready at the same time. You've cast a backwards glance here, and I can see it still eats at your soul. I understand that, but the past is the past, and I hope this helps you let much of it go... a wonderful but sad journey you took me on, triggering my own 'whatifs'... kudos and cheers... Gary....

You must be psychic to read my mind so well. It is a good thing to write these poems out, if only to express, and so tame such memories. Yes, it is a powerfully sad ballade, but one which asks a terribly common question. The challenge/prompt didn't warn us how intensely one can feel in this form. You are kind to respond so generously and at length. Thank you so very much.

Parker Owens
On 08/25/2016 06:11 AM, dughlas said:

The words ... dear God the words you use to weave this are phenominal ... and they carry the ache of a long ago yet lingering hurt.

When AC talked about using power words in the Ballade Prompt, it wasn't clear just how powerful some could be. The hurt continues, though muted much by time. Thank you so much for your response me and for reading Occasional Poetry.

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