Welcome to Shards of Silver

Marianne Moore once defined 'poetry' as "Imaginary gardens with real toads in them". I found this such a striking definition of something that captures the values of poetry that I couldn't leave it alone.

I've been writing - attempting - poetry since I knew how to hold a pen(cil). Some poems I write I like, most I don't, but every now and then I feel compelled to write them down, like a flush of emotion that demands access to some sort of visible medium that can later be accessed and reconsidered. I thought, maybe, that sharing these poems could help me out a little. I welcome critiques, critical and constructive (though I do, of course reserve the right to ignore the sharper sides of people's tongues ;) ), and hope that in return for your help I can leave you with something better than sorry attempts at a craft which only a tiny few have ever really mastered.

Clear Skies~V

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

The Misguided

True: I'd love to hate you.
It's like a cloud falling:
                               silver grey yellow blue,
                               soft wet, capturing cold.
Closed around you and not my guiding light
                               not the lighthouse on a cliff
                               calling homewards to me.
More the lulling river full of suggestion
                               your constructed hopes
                               your blinded desires.
Oh yes, I'd love to hate you.
My friend, you dreamed you were my love,
                               but it's the blind that dream so well.
But you're not my northern star in alien waters,
                               sailing these waters isn't so hard
                               You're for someone who doesn't exist.
Not my navigation or my cartographer,
                              Don't cloud the way.
You're not waiting for me.
My friend, you dreamed you were my love,
                              when you thought my heart was dead,
                              you thought I would take a final leap.
My friend, you dreamed you were my love,
                             like you were some knight,
                             on some imaginary stallion.
My friend, you dreamed you were my love,
                             and only the blind dream so well
                             in the wrong direction.
True: I'd love to hate you.
So take your dreaming far from me.

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