those who know me, know the gist of what is going on,
those who do not, I am just an airy fairy poet (Ithink)
writing because I love writing :-)


Impenetrable

It is cold out there and oft it is grey,
we live beneath a mutinous sky,
yet would I have it any other way?
I watch the light fall, away,
the depleting sun sweeping between
the left over ploughed grooves
of fields aching to yield a harvest.
I catch winter night breezes
in my mouth and pick my way
toward a hazy horizon, just to watch
the lights across the sea, catch
on flecks of spume and ancient
horses wading in their depths.
It seems such an interminable depth,
where one could plummet
and never ever reach the core,
I feel the coldness sting my cheeks
and realise that I am crying
and all of me is just a hollow
numbness waiting, wanting to be penetrated
into being, feeling seeing, being me again.
The lost sound of gulls, their cry
reaching to that mother part of me,
that used to wake in the night
with a need so great, it overpowered
and I just cowered in its force.
I am loath to leave the edge of shore,
I want to watch the lights,
take flight up amongst the darkness
and swiftly reach a place,
that perhaps is just slightly unobtainable.
I want, so to explore, ride the wind,
crest upon the waves and return,
drenched, a figure lying on the shingle,
feeling sharp stones dig into flesh.
It is so much better to feel anything,
than this damn numbness,
that leaves me deaf and mute,
lost in the richness of what life should be.





Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 758 times
star mini Editors' choice
Written on 2010-01-25 at 19:53

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BlueyedSoul
I haven't been here is such a long time, and your poem was the first I wanted to read. I do not know what is going on E, but this work of yours stirs me and makes me ache. Fairy poet? I think so much more, A beautiful and sad rending of soul.
Hugs
~Cindy
2010-02-02



There is a profundity and (for lack of a better word--or for my laziness in not finding the proper word) an exquisite aching in this work. I think it is unequivocably among your best. The lines in which the gulls' cries recall your sense of motherhood (perhaps recalling the sound of a baby crying in the night) are excellent. Odd that numbness, which literally denotes the absence of feeling, is on the contrary a tangible, and even tactile, sensation. I've experienced it many times, and only lately have learned to avoid recoiling from it, but rather listen to what it is trying to tell me, usually something about my love-hate relationship with change (or the "mutinous sky" as you so eloquently phrase it).
2010-01-28


Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
This text has been chosen to be featured on the front page of PoetBay. Thank you for posting it on our poetry web site.
2010-01-27


NicholasG
If writing is what you do best for heaven`s sake, write. To write with grace and dignity is as noble an undertaking as any. A page such as this holds a great deal of inspiration to many.Thank you.
Nick
2010-01-27


Brian Oarr
This is simply one of the most awesome poems I have ever read, and believe me, Elle, that is no small number.

You've taken me inside a female mind in a way that makes me feel like Mel Gibson.

Brian
2010-01-26


ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
YOUR ARE A POET , not an airy fairy thingy a me bob!
Ken
2010-01-25