deepundergroundpoetry.com
In Cloudy Almanac, the Burning of Diaries
The fire glows as orange bees,
Hives honey days into diesel
To fuel forever yesterday(s).
Placing palms on embers
Something religious in the pain;
Stigmata numbered Psalm 451.
Ashes to ashes, lust to must,
As actor speech lingers in empty theatres
Graved words - eternal - on unmarked stage.
Secrets, lies and to the nth degree
A thrift shop pen can burn it all down.
We rest as inviable commas
In a flux encyclopaedia
Of fuck-knows-what-nots,
Which we dare to touch -
But never to hold.
Hives honey days into diesel
To fuel forever yesterday(s).
Placing palms on embers
Something religious in the pain;
Stigmata numbered Psalm 451.
Ashes to ashes, lust to must,
As actor speech lingers in empty theatres
Graved words - eternal - on unmarked stage.
Secrets, lies and to the nth degree
A thrift shop pen can burn it all down.
We rest as inviable commas
In a flux encyclopaedia
Of fuck-knows-what-nots,
Which we dare to touch -
But never to hold.
Published 13th Dec 2022
Author's Note
ERULGCT 173. A friend used to burn the previous year’s diary on first day of the New Year. I wonder who burns her diaries now? She once wrote in a letter, "there is nothing as beautiful as a burning car." 451 is obviously a reference to the novel, Fahrenheit 451.
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The author encourages honest critique.
13th Dec 2022 5:53pm
There's a wonderfully weird and uniquely "you" syntax to your poems that feels both modern and ancient. I loved the line "something religious in the pain".
13th Dec 2022 6:34pm
Appreciated Mr R. A few have made similar comments (some in a derisory sense - I can live with that. Lol). Unlikely to change my style / voice after all these dismal decades. I'm glad it holds true for poets like yourself.
Protagonist has appeared in other works. Death by suicide at the stupid age of 29. Ironically, for such a wordsmith, she never left a note. I am aware that she had Joy Division on loop in the days before her hop, skip and jump. Like to think of Curtis and her as lovers in some desolate landscape.
Protagonist has appeared in other works. Death by suicide at the stupid age of 29. Ironically, for such a wordsmith, she never left a note. I am aware that she had Joy Division on loop in the days before her hop, skip and jump. Like to think of Curtis and her as lovers in some desolate landscape.
14th Dec 2022 4:28am
When I was a younger man and our childhood coterie was coming undone by intoxication and ego, I burned all the letters and pictures in a beach bonfire, wind whipped the blue flames into a three tiered conical tower and as I marveled in bittersweet awe I thought, this last vestige of magic. It's certainly been lonelier and sober times since.
There is such subtle presence in the images, shadows of time and bonds, it reminds me of what that felt like.
There is such subtle presence in the images, shadows of time and bonds, it reminds me of what that felt like.
14th Dec 2022 10:44am
Your comments hit the-nail-on-head regarding essence of the poem my friend.
My Housemates at the time, were once awaken by the crackle and spit of a bonfire in the garden. I was the drunken fire starter, setting ablaze a relationship which ended in blood & tears on a godforsaken dancefloor. I can still see the flames to this day and wear the broken nose as a jewel to shit love.
My Housemates at the time, were once awaken by the crackle and spit of a bonfire in the garden. I was the drunken fire starter, setting ablaze a relationship which ended in blood & tears on a godforsaken dancefloor. I can still see the flames to this day and wear the broken nose as a jewel to shit love.
14th Dec 2022 6:37pm
I broke my hand punching a wall, we're really mad creatures, I can understand why aliens would fly around and leave without staying for a cuppa lol
Anonymous
- Edited 29th May 2023 7:45am
15th Dec 2022 10:31am
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15th Dec 2022 11:42am
Many thanks R. The Phoenix symbol was present, though silent, in my collected thoughts. Yeah. fire does purge and cleanse. It can also utterly destroy,
15th Dec 2022 2:47pm
I love the imagery so much Rob...
The fire does look like orange bees. Buzzing and fluttering.
Pain is one of the most intense feelings of being alive.
There is something religious in it. Redemption.
I see the Psalm 451 reference as a reference to Psalm 45:1
"my tongue is the pen of a skillful writer."
"My tongue is the pen of a ready writer."
"Beautiful words stir my heart."
"for my tongue is like the pen of a skillful poet."
But so often we are the only ones that see those words.
They are never shared and so they burn to ashes in our mind.
Those empty stages of dying and dead words. unmarked...
It would seem we are always writing something new though.
Secrets and lies never to be told. Perhaps when we die.
If those words remain they will be dug up... And perhaps...
Someone will know all of the pain left entombed in them.
And the beauty too. 'we are to touch - But never to hold."
Wow, often a summary of life. Incredible ending Rob...
The fire does look like orange bees. Buzzing and fluttering.
Pain is one of the most intense feelings of being alive.
There is something religious in it. Redemption.
I see the Psalm 451 reference as a reference to Psalm 45:1
"my tongue is the pen of a skillful writer."
"My tongue is the pen of a ready writer."
"Beautiful words stir my heart."
"for my tongue is like the pen of a skillful poet."
But so often we are the only ones that see those words.
They are never shared and so they burn to ashes in our mind.
Those empty stages of dying and dead words. unmarked...
It would seem we are always writing something new though.
Secrets and lies never to be told. Perhaps when we die.
If those words remain they will be dug up... And perhaps...
Someone will know all of the pain left entombed in them.
And the beauty too. 'we are to touch - But never to hold."
Wow, often a summary of life. Incredible ending Rob...
15th Dec 2022 5:54pm
Double Diolch for such an endearing and clever comment. It's a very selfless act to caress the words of others with such considered attention. Words are the kindle for bonfires of passion. Nadolig Llawen as they say in my land.
