deepundergroundpoetry.com
HUNGER
Alluvial flesh silts from the rill
The river bolsters then let's go
Leaping the falls
Drops that no longer
Can stay together
And I will find the brook
Of spinning drops
And cup my hands
And sup
It is not the tree whispering
Nor the wind whispering
The whisper is my invention
Vent in waiting
For words
A wax man faces the sun
Pulled by north and south
Flesh melts from rib and spine
Fire in rain rainbow woven
Spinning magnets
And I will find his bones
And I shall eat them up
The river bolsters then let's go
Leaping the falls
Drops that no longer
Can stay together
And I will find the brook
Of spinning drops
And cup my hands
And sup
It is not the tree whispering
Nor the wind whispering
The whisper is my invention
Vent in waiting
For words
A wax man faces the sun
Pulled by north and south
Flesh melts from rib and spine
Fire in rain rainbow woven
Spinning magnets
And I will find his bones
And I shall eat them up
Published 11th Feb 2017
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likes 10
reading list entries 0
comments 17
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The author encourages honest critique.
11th Feb 2017 2:44pm
"Leaping the falls
Drops that no longer
Can stay together"
There's an sense of equal parts fear and joy in these images and words. The fear of suddenly being alone to make one's way and the joy of finally breaking free. Perhaps it's simply where my mind is today...but I'm drawn in especially by those words. Thank you :)
Willow
Drops that no longer
Can stay together"
There's an sense of equal parts fear and joy in these images and words. The fear of suddenly being alone to make one's way and the joy of finally breaking free. Perhaps it's simply where my mind is today...but I'm drawn in especially by those words. Thank you :)
Willow
11th Feb 2017 4:42pm
Anonymous
- Edited 27th Dec 2019 12:45pm
11th Feb 2017 3:30pm
<< post removed >>
11th Feb 2017 4:43pm
Anonymous
11th Feb 2017 3:35pm
Many emotions surfaced for me while reading this piece.
A deep ache within. A longing for something very specific, to feed this void. This missing piece.
This portion stood out for me:
"And I will find the brook
Of spinning drops
And cup my hands
And sup "
....there is nothing like supping, from that brook. Droplets which fulfill.
This is a keeper for me.
A deep ache within. A longing for something very specific, to feed this void. This missing piece.
This portion stood out for me:
"And I will find the brook
Of spinning drops
And cup my hands
And sup "
....there is nothing like supping, from that brook. Droplets which fulfill.
This is a keeper for me.
11th Feb 2017 4:44pm
yes where does desire go HUNGER go when all else is satisfied save the last words
11th Feb 2017 3:39pm
11th Feb 2017 4:45pm
Anonymous
11th Feb 2017 5:05pm
Hey Whale......I read this several times........I can't find the words to praise you enough for this dynamic ink......well done.....purple luv & hugs xo :)
11th Feb 2017 6:35pm
11th Feb 2017 8:33pm
This births such a landscape of images and thoughts in my mind's eye. Captivating. It makes me think of my own constant hunger for inspiration. Well penned my brother.
11th Feb 2017 9:07pm
15th Feb 2017 3:04pm
Fantastic ride... One cannot avoid the ebb and flow of this... So very well done.
As writers we often work for our words.Here they clearly work effortlessly for you.
As writers we often work for our words.Here they clearly work effortlessly for you.
15th Feb 2017 5:03pm
18th Feb 2017 7:47pm
It seems like more than one died and "re-birthed" in this piece. The third stanza takes me right back to my days spent on the Brecon Beacons and how thirsty I was when I got to the top. I supped the ice cold spring water coming out of the hills.
I love how thought provoking and cryptic this piece is. Wonderful writing Whale.
I love how thought provoking and cryptic this piece is. Wonderful writing Whale.
18th Feb 2017 8:03pm
18th Feb 2017 8:04pm
