Friday, April 29, 2011

Broken pencil poetry. Diving into the sun

I've always looked younger than I really am. I've often acted half my age as well. Somehow, though, I feel that I've missed out on a lot of the madness of childhood while I was growing up. Things are rarely the way we imagine them to be and we keep holding on for a dream until long after we've woken up.

I've also always been fascinated by the energy of youth, by people who live with passion rather than just live. I have constantly seen children younger than me who had more talent or knowledge than I did at their age or even when I was older.


I have also seen a crazy little film in the crazy way I often like to see them. Fragment by fragment, seldom starting with the beginning and almost never reaching the end. A perpetual story, where you can enjoy any part of it over and over again. Isn't that how youth is like as well?

This poem was inspired by that film. I hope you'll like it and that it makes as much sense to you as it does to me.

Diving into the sun
7 October 2006


Take the smooth jaws of destiny
To bite from your skin -

In twilight shivers a smile
You've poured in a hole in the road,
It's something cold and dark
Until you can no longer see the stars.

There is pure madness here,
In the shallow charms of youth,
Here you see the white bone curling
Around a blackened sliver of wood,
Doves love each other
And yet not quite.

Partake in this swirl we call life
Where nothing worries over blood,
Bestow upon us incantations
That hide behind the sun.

It pains me so that such sweet incense
Should be burnt on the altar of stain,
Yet what was once born white
Will be reborn again in marred reality
And altogether all the more pristine.

And of the times that were
Naught will be left, but the shiver.

10 comments:

  1. Life is a swirl, isn't it :-)

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  2. I am battling a bit with this one, Lavi. It seems fragmented and I realize this was your intention, but I am unable to put the pieces together. I know you are talking about youthful innocence and how it is lost on the alter of experience...and death comes into it with your image of the bone, but I have difficulty understanding the shiver that you mention at the start and again at the end. What does it represent? I really feel stupid tonight! I love the way you played around with the words here. I get a strong sense of fun coming through, that you were really enjoying this word play. Am I correct with my assumption.

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  3. Yes, life is a roller coaster. :D

    Hmhm... To be honest, I usually write on a whim and all the imagery takes form on a subconscious level. I often have to take breaks and ask myself "what does this mean?" and after I figure it out and see that it works well with the whole flow, continue writing.

    In a nutshell, I'm talking about the exuberance and shallowness of youth, which in itself means innocence, because there is no worry, no ulterior motive.

    The shiver is basically the soul. Umm, I know my brain works in strange ways, but, to me, the bone is the innermost level of passion. And the blackened wood mature world which succumbs to the "awesomeness" and passion of youth.

    Sorry, I could go on and on... To me, all of this does make sense, but in a strange kind of way.

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  4. It was interesting reading your interpretation Lavi. Recalling youthful times means many things to many people doesn't it. Thank you for sharing your work.

    On a different matter, I wonder if you'd mind popping over to my blog and seeing if you can download my button. (It's at the top of my sidebar). It doesn't seem to be working yet from my end. I'd be interested to know if it does from another blog. Many thanks :D)

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  5. Lavi, me again!! I'm pretty sure the button is working... plus, I've used the picture your fiance designed for my header also. I'm totally thrilled with the result. His work is beautiful. I've told him so and also wanted to thank you very kindly for your part in it as well. You're a very generous couple.
    Already there has been a compliment on my chic new blog header, from Vicki. Cheers, Susan :D)

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  6. Thank you for your enlightening explanation! I enjoyed this even more than the poem itself and would love to have your poems to read, along with your own insights and interpretations as it adds a new dimension of richness to your writing. I had not interpreted the bone as passion (I saw it as death). I think your interpretation of the soul as being represented by the shiver is powerful. I realise the mind of a writer exists altogether on a different plane. I find your visual images truly fascinating even though I may not always understand them. I guess it's very much like viewing a painting. Not everyone has the same interpretation or understanding of what the artist originally conceived or intended, yet we all have our own personal response to what we see. You are a gifted writer, Lavi, of that I have no doubt at all.

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  7. In regard to your potplant...I do hope you're able to source some good quality soil from a friend, perhaps, or even ask at your local botanical/municipal garden? I'm sure they'd happily give you the equivalent of a shopping bag full. It would also be worthwhile to replenish the soil in your ex-flatmate's pot, as it appeared to be rather meagre to support a plant of that stature. All potplants thrive on being transplanted occasionally or having new soil added to the top. If you can find a couple of earthworms to add to the pot, even better. And save a few vegetable peelings, tea leaves and banana peels to chop up finely and add just below the soil surface for the worms to feed on and work into the soil. If you don't have a pot, you can always use a large tin (or an empty plastic container...just punch a couple of drainage holes in the bottom ;)

    Crossing fingers you have great success with your new hobby :)

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  8. Thank you so much, Desiree! I should name you my biggest fan, you are just too kind.

    And you also gave me an idea... I was going to publish a lot of my poems in a book, but I think it would be interesting to add my own critique in there too. I'll admit, at times I get too confused at other people's metaphors and I would love to know how their mind worked.

    I cut the plant today, maybe a bit too little... We often got fresh soil dug out by moles in the spring. I will probably have to buy compost from a florist's though, no moles in the big city. Good thing mom has a lot of big flowerpots at home.

    Thanks again!

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  9. Such an interesting poem. I love the imagery and the rhythm of it. I enjoyed reading your conversation with Desiree as much as I did reading the poem.

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  10. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR HELP, YET AGAIN, LAVI! You're a real Angel and it is greatly appreciated :)

    Huge hug,
    Des xoxo

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