the things you've said are written
on pieces of paper
clipped on the wire like washed
laundry
somewhat heavy and somewhat fresh
they seem like ghost letters
pleading to stay
-
the way they flutter in the wind
when we sit in silence about the
truth
our lives are long car rides into
the unknown
our dashboards collecting scent of
our days and nights
there it all lies, life in its’
splendour
among billions, my life is just a
whisper
but will it ever carry its' own
voice?
for I am a writer without a name on
the run
if every road leads from birth till
death, what's more important,
- the ride or the road?
convinced myself believing my
greatest pain
was being misunderstood; in truth,
it was never being heard at all
if we exchange our keys will our
hearts finally be quiet?
sometimes we fear where others will
lead us to
the walls we build are not high
enough
people will climb them or break them
down
in the end it only matters what will
make better memories
- those you once loved
do they hold a tombstone in your
heart
or are they like butterflies who
ease your breath?
living is a war, where you recognize
what's important and what not
and if it doesn't change us, what's
the point of living?
*
OMG, I LOVE this!
ReplyDeleteI loved this Natasa. :) A deep poem, wonderfully presented. I particularly loved these lines:
ReplyDelete"if we exchange our keys will our hearts finally be quiet?"
"do they hold a tombstone in your heart
or are they like butterflies who ease your breath?"
the butterflies part summed it up for me. really good work. :)
I'm glad it's butterflies for you. :) thank you...those lines are close to me to (not that the others are not, but those two in particular).
DeleteA wonderfully deep and contemplative write. That first stanza is exceptional to me...I enjoyed the whole thing.
ReplyDeleteReally nicely done. Lots of questions I have no answer for, unfortunately.
ReplyDeleteintimate meditations.life is a struggle.and we all search for our own ways to cope with it.
ReplyDelete"In the end it only matters what will make better memories" ----- I do like that idea. I hope to live life so that at the end of my time I will have no regrets, and also that those who remember me will have good memories. As far as living being a 'war,' well maybe so...the fight between what is important and unimportant. And may the important take the lead. Thanks for sharing, Natasa!
ReplyDeletethank you.. yes, it's the best way to live life, to make memories and leave those behind in others.
Deleteha, your phrasing is awesome...
ReplyDeletewhen we sit in silence about the truth
our lives are long car rides into the unknown
and they each bear little truths, life is but a whisper, there are quite a few lines i could quote back, know its enjoyed...and there is def a point...and it does change us...
thank you... i hope it does :)
DeleteThe opening is strong, vivid. The speaker's voice is clear, no wavering. Then it becomes a collection of images, some of which are very good but they're shrouded in exposition. I really like what you begun here.
ReplyDeletethank you :)
DeleteA beautiful profound piece, just wonderful!
ReplyDeleteAn interesting presentation of your ideas. I liked the 'ghost letters' part.
ReplyDeleteWhat a deep poem! The letters being somewhat fresh and somewhat heavy are a striking insight.
ReplyDeletewow, a beautiful poem.
ReplyDeletesad, even elegant, in the pain, and a message of hope in the end.
"among billions, my life is just a whisper" -- what a great line. :)
I'm glad you see hope in the of the poem :) and thank you.
Deletebeautiful thoughts
ReplyDeleteWe can practice loving ourselves during the mean time.
ReplyDeletethat's a great solution.
DeleteWow--what a gorgeous write--Loved this in every way you can love a piece!!
ReplyDeletethank you Audrey! glad you did :)
Delete"our lives are long car rides into the unknown...." great line! I love the line about leaving better memories. Also, in our poems, our voice can be heard, by those interested in reading. Well written. Nice to see you at the Pantry, kiddo!
ReplyDeletethank you.. yes, we can be heard through our poems, but if the right reader finds it.. and besides those who write poetry, who else reads poems these days? I don't wanna be pessimistic, but I really don't know anyone...
Deletelike. Enormously.
ReplyDeleteGood write
ReplyDeleteNatasha, Often, I sit and contemplate on these lines- A poem is human voice and the self that produces the poem wants to make a contact with the reader of the poem. And the act of completion completes only when the reader enters the imaginative play of a poem, bringing to it our point of view.
ReplyDeletePoetry Pantry is one place where you find such readers...:)) My first time here, and I thoroughly enjoyed reading your work. Great job..
thank you Panchali for stopping by... and indeed, a poem is a human voice which wants to make contact with the reader. nicely put.
DeleteI do think it is true that it is harder to NOT BE HEARD AT ALL than to be misunderstood. At least, in a misunderstanding there is communication and a chance to explain....but not to be heard is downright painful. (Back visiting this poem again a second time.)
ReplyDeletethank you Mary... it is downright painful not to be heard..
Delete