Tuesday, 23 January 2018

mes pensées sont française



                                                      come back to my arms tonight
                                     they’re as empty as the breaths I draw
                                  listen closely to the drops that I’ve traced
                                    on my face and my palms
                                           whisper what we’d wish we forgot
                                                              bleed me to a newer fate.

                                                      let this head rest on a muscle,
                    expand and collapse, and collapse and collapse
                                                be it a faint, fleeting desire
                           twisting your tendons against my strands
                                   peck tenderly to conjure vivid dreams
                                          reanimate all these nerves, suspire,
                                                                          tonight.

                                            allow me to retrace your collar bone
                                     dreamlike, the rise and fall in your ribs
                                     the gentle thunder of your shoulders,
                                          teases this jaw like harp strings
                 lay your cold feet on my broiled soles, tonight
                                                        and cease this cruel
                                                                                     expanse.
 

5 comments:

  1. )Interesting title. Is it sort of an echo of one of the reasons for why we feel the need to write and read poems: that some things seem to need a different 'language' than the one available to us in prose?
    Your choice to use no capitals and very little punctuation lends a breathless, but hushed and trembling quality to the lines. Nicely complements the pleas made in the lines themselves. Also liked the way the indentation of the lines suggest the undulating curves of a body; the poem seems to unfold like the lover's body.

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    1. Aha, thanks for those observations, Nelson (:
      The title is in conversation with a few things I have in mind with respect to love and affection, especially how love doesn't have to have a language one's too familiar with. Besides that, it's also a reference to this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ru2Hh_GKPqc

      The structure, as I tried, shows how thoughts would rush to someone longing for their beloved's company. So I view the length of each line wrt time, and so the words come out as they would while thinking of someone; sometimes instantly, sometimes with hesitation or a sense of defeat.

      The poem itself representing a body is a total accident, though..

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    2. That's a great thought, Himanshu. And the video reference was interesting, though I admit i didn't get it completely, haha...
      Your explanation for the indentation makes a lot of sense. Thanks!

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  2. The medical/ biological precision when talking about the lover's body, words like 'muscle', 'tendons' and lends an unsettling undertone to the poem. These words almost seem to contrast the typical words we expect to describe the body parts in a love poem, like "head", "collar bone", "arms".

    The visual form of the stanzas are also a very interesting choice.

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    1. Thank you for your words, Sreoshi (:
      I'd just wanted to create a (almost) surreal and cerebral retelling of a lover's body, as anybody painfully missing their loved one would try and recollect. Though, imo, I feel I left out so much.

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