"Your condemned Impressionism,
Blending over my Cubism,
Let us bathe in Realism"
Lavi, "The tunnel of dreams", 2006
Look, I've just quoted myself again. I should feel like one of the classics now, sipping ambrosia and being offered nectar and ambrosia by critics from a silver platter. Yes? No, not really. The classics would spit in my face.
So would the critics.
But let us put our binoculars on and squint very hard at the whole picture. I'm trying to make an impression to a small group of people and the classics are too classical for me.
This is my first poem posted here in its entirety. It is also old (and broken), as you will see from the date.
At the time, I had a long distance erm... lover so to say, but the love wasn't too smooth. Nothing was particularly smooth, as it felt like I was on a wild goose chase. They were quite full of lies, my so-called pen-friend.
Yes, wild goose chase doesn't even begin to describe it...
The tunnel of dreams
26 August 2006
The landscape pours by,
As water from a cliff,
Only the cliff is the brim of the window opposite me.
Me and this other stranger next to my seat,
We are the only ones in this ghost train
As the world leaps by, melting.
The shivers of night conduct us further,
Me and this unknown soul without face, without clothes and without a body,
Just my furtive imagination,
Creating a demon from a sweet green concoction.
My side is cold, an image slides against it,
An old photograph,
Yellow and bent at the edges, half of it torn
By some tormented lover
Parting with his own.
I'll one day shrivel in pain
And it'll rain mud over my eyes,
What are you doing here, ghost of fumes,
Closing in on my heart?
Yes, i remember now, as through nausea,
The cold hands on my neck,
A dead's caresses, fingers of lead.
If my breath had not frozen then,
It was only for the warm cover of madness
Wrapped over my eyes.
If i draw my nails over your skull,
Do you suppose you'll bleed?
Would you feel it worse? Or just send your spectre
To embrace me more?
Cheshire Cat, Cheshire Cat, why do you gaze me so?
Cheshire Cat, O, Cheshire Cat, why do your yellow eyes sting so?
Tremendously your king, Cheshire Cat, then i forbid you
To bear into my soul
With your kittenish eyes.
Portrait of the woman lost
Is hanging from your whiskers,
Above it eyes of sulphur,
Your condemned Impressionism,
Blending over my Cubism,
Let us bathe in Realism
Until we might have cleansed our souls
Of shame.
Oh, pitiful stranger, who clings upon me so,
A tree branch hand into my chest
And one over my eyes,
Yes, i can still see you stealing from my bag of walnuts,
You sly...
Protective bastard.
Your shawl dropped over a shoulder,
Naked of flesh, yet with no bone,
Just an empty shoulder, stark and sharp, skinny shoulder.
And your miraculous pair of empty blue eyes,
As only i've seen
Mirrored in my jaw.
Come down from Heaven, Malicious Beast,
Come to me into my Train of Wonder,
The only one that comes from Nowhere
And leads back into Void.
26 August 2006
The landscape pours by,
As water from a cliff,
Only the cliff is the brim of the window opposite me.
Me and this other stranger next to my seat,
We are the only ones in this ghost train
As the world leaps by, melting.
The shivers of night conduct us further,
Me and this unknown soul without face, without clothes and without a body,
Just my furtive imagination,
Creating a demon from a sweet green concoction.
My side is cold, an image slides against it,
An old photograph,
Yellow and bent at the edges, half of it torn
By some tormented lover
Parting with his own.
I'll one day shrivel in pain
And it'll rain mud over my eyes,
What are you doing here, ghost of fumes,
Closing in on my heart?
Yes, i remember now, as through nausea,
The cold hands on my neck,
A dead's caresses, fingers of lead.
If my breath had not frozen then,
It was only for the warm cover of madness
Wrapped over my eyes.
If i draw my nails over your skull,
Do you suppose you'll bleed?
Would you feel it worse? Or just send your spectre
To embrace me more?
Cheshire Cat, Cheshire Cat, why do you gaze me so?
Cheshire Cat, O, Cheshire Cat, why do your yellow eyes sting so?
Tremendously your king, Cheshire Cat, then i forbid you
To bear into my soul
With your kittenish eyes.
Portrait of the woman lost
Is hanging from your whiskers,
Above it eyes of sulphur,
Your condemned Impressionism,
Blending over my Cubism,
Let us bathe in Realism
Until we might have cleansed our souls
Of shame.
Oh, pitiful stranger, who clings upon me so,
A tree branch hand into my chest
And one over my eyes,
Yes, i can still see you stealing from my bag of walnuts,
You sly...
Protective bastard.
Your shawl dropped over a shoulder,
Naked of flesh, yet with no bone,
Just an empty shoulder, stark and sharp, skinny shoulder.
And your miraculous pair of empty blue eyes,
As only i've seen
Mirrored in my jaw.
Come down from Heaven, Malicious Beast,
Come to me into my Train of Wonder,
The only one that comes from Nowhere
And leads back into Void.
I am so pleased you've decided to start posting some of your poetry, Lavi. I know it takes courage, "kind of like going out on a limb" (love that cliched expression), so I'm really, REALLY proud of you.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed reading this especially as it was your first poem ever. It is clear that you were in an unfulfilling relationship at the time and some of your images are brutally frank. You were obviously grappling with a lot of deception and the absence of any real affection in the relationship is vividly spelt out. I am left with a powerful sense of lifelessness, an emptiness, as though you'd had all the feeling (and life-force) sucked out of you by this phantom person. Have I read it correctly? I am really tired tonight and on my way to bed...perhaps I should have put off commenting until tomorrow.
Hugs,
Des xoxo
PS: I sensed something familiar in the last verse...a Phantom of the Opera type of situation playing out. Am I right?
ReplyDeleteThank you, Desiree! You have really said in a few words what I babbled in the whole poem. Yes, it was a ghostly kind of presence and, at times, it felt as if I was chasing the image in my mind rather than the real person.
ReplyDeleteHowever, it is not my first poem. That had been written years before and I can't find it any more.
To my shame, I haven't seen the Phantom of the Opera... I will though and see what you meant.
Thank you again for all the encouragement!
See, I really was tired last night. I'd interpreted 'first poem posted' as meaning 'the first poem you'd written' and were now posting.
ReplyDeleteIn regards to my last comment, it was really only in your final verse that I'd picked up a sense of the Phantom of the Opera. Andrew Lloyd Webber did it beautifully and, if you can get a copy of the soundtrack from the stage show, I'm sure you'll enjoy it. The book (I've forgotten who wrote it) is really enjoyable to read, too.
Hope you're having a great day!
Good morning, Lavi! We have a nice, clear, but thankfully cooler, day here and I'm going to be given a lesson in learning to operate my new camera (birthday gift from my husband!) :)
ReplyDeleteMy old camera is a little Nikon point and shoot about the size of a cellphone (mobile), which suited me perfectly, I thought! It has a zoom function and a macro function built in, plus other stuff I never used. I loved it, but my husband thinks I've now outgrown it's usefulness and insisted I needed an upgrade, now that I'm blogging and posting so many photos. The new one is also a Nikon, but has a lot more features than the old one (even a built in video option!). He has promised me I'll never look back once I've got the hang of this new baby! Right now, I feel a mixture of trepidation over-ridden by a feeling of excitement! HOLD THUMBS & wish me luck!
The pictures taken from the helicopter were mostly done with my son's camera. My husband was videoing the whole thing. We did that flight two years ago. I'd LOVE to do it again!!!
Hope you're having a super weekend!
Hugs,
Des xoxo
You are a honey! Thank you for the lesson in how to add a link. Now all I have to do is pluck up my courage and try after I've had tea. Just been trimming and deadheading in the garden ;)
ReplyDelete