“but I am wicked”: I tell him and he roars
in laughter, the sky sheds silver lights
and marigolds sweep away the stench
of my embarrassing gait, I see through
the hysterical haze, to miss the worlds
of yesterday, a remiss creeper binding
me into the shrubbery devoid of sight.
to be able to speak or to be mum, to
file a memory into my eyes like a rich
embroidery woven, or to defile desires
that have a demurring allure to them,
I, he can not feel my pulse, metrical to
the sound of his voice, I repulse him
by the veracity of this hollow heart.
he is the me of days gone, yet to come.
*For With Real Toads.
Image source (“The Good Fight” by Scott Saw)
HA's Place 
Very powerfull, striking and relatable, HA, definitely one of my new favourites from you.
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You are too kind, Oloriel. But I hate this piece. I hate almost everything that I have been writing nowadays.
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That is completely alright. I believe they are fragments of your journey you are yet to see an experience, perhaps, the poems feel distant to who you are right now and what you wish to be.
I would say, leave them on the side, in a labeled document on your computer, and revisit them, read them as though you are a reader, at some later time.
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Don’t I know that feeling! I think sometimes we need to just power through. Keep writing even when you feel it’s terrible a half second after hitting ‘publish’, or even if you’re writing in a notebook. Then, at some point, I think, it starts to feel OK again.. I’m at that point too, so I’m hoping.. haha 😉
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This is fantastic! I especially like these lines (and line breaks):
“the sky sheds silver lights
and marigolds”
“of yesterday, a remiss creeper binding
me”
“file a memory into my eyes” (including the other meaning of “file,” as in, to grind down in a potentially painful way)
“to defile desires”
“can not feel my pulse, metrical”
“I repulse him”
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Very incisive and poete maudit feel to this–I like the confusion of identity(ies) that you’ve made seem very natural, the light touch with a dark theme, and the way you’ve used sounds, ie ‘demurring allure’ so subtly.
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hey amnol…havent seen you around much lately…hows school going?
the twist of that last line…days gone, yet to come…acknowledges the cycles of life…its an interesting dichotomy between the two identities as well…
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This is great Anmol – that last line really take the poem home for me. Bring clarity to the rest of the beautiful imagery. I think it fits my prompt at dVerse too 😉
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Such a sweeping soft magisterial gait to this, like whooshes of blood through the heart. Alive and pulsing.
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as intimate a glimpse as one can get from a poem, this piece resonates with the rhythm of blood in the ears. thanks for adding your voice, Anmol ~
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A “wicked” good back and forth … and the last line really helps clarify it all.
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Feels, to me, prophetic and dream-like. I especially enjoy the sound quality and use of vocabulary in this piece. Great imagery!
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Mind. Is. Blown 🙂
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