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    corvus
  • corvus
  • Author
  • 12/25/2010
  • 130 Words
  • 759 Views
  • 1 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. 

Poems - 2. Hurt has told him not to listen,

Hurt has told him not to listen,
And he has not listened—
Some kite’s frayed tail of words
Has followed him these years
Like a letter unopened,
Like a wound he does not believe
Is festering.

Hurt now tells him to listen,
But he will not listen.
Blackness is tangled in his mind, or his mind
Has become the shadow of a bowl
Collecting fragments of forms,
And each so lonely
He would hold up his hands for them
Because he knows he will cry if he listens;
He knows he will cry.

Hurt now has left him,
But he is not happier.
Poor man! He was not shown the spot
That hurt had found—
A still place where unhappiness could gather
And mirror the stars in a distant sky.

Copyright © 2010 corvus; All Rights Reserved.
  • Like 2
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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Toast

Hurt, what an endless word. A soul note, often the center of many a song sung. And this is such a song, is it not? And the shadow note, denial, plays in dark harmony. Guiding and playing in whispers. Is it coming to terms, acceptance? But is acceptance enough?

 

 

I guess I respond to the emotion of the piece first. Yes, I have to read the words first, but reading a poem seems to be the reverse of writing one. For me at least.

 

This hits on so many levels, very personal and completely universal.

 

 

Thanks.

 

And he has not listened—

But he will not listen.

But he is not happier.

 

I don't think the poem is saying there is no answer to hurt, it is saying discovery is painful process. Maybe?

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