Unforgiven (Revision 3)

[Marion Poirier]

Changes in Lines 7, 8

Revision 3
Unforgiven


Wind sweeps through naked elms.
A storm darkens the horizon;
clouds drift on winter's edge.

Words, timeworn echoes
trail after a tempest,
Forgive me, they plead.

Tears like rain on cobblestones -
will not retrieve loss.

Let us, rather, toast the good times
smash the glass,
and close the door.

Reflection steals sleep
walls whisper in silent rooms -
a rose scent remains.

There's a void between seasons,
drawn to the place beyond denial,
a maze where all roads
lead back to yesterday.

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Original

The Unforgiven

Branches dance naked
as wind sweeps through elms.
A storm darkens the horizon -
clouds drift on winter's edge.

His words, timeworn echoes
trail after the tempest,
Forgive me, he pleaded.

Will our tears erase irretrievable loss
like rain falling on cobblestones?

Rather, let us toast the good times -
then smash the glass
and close the door.

Reflection inhibits sleep;
a rose scent remains
in silent rooms
where walls whisper.

Days drained of enthusiasm,
appetite turns to dusty regret.
I journey toward the unknown,
birthed in separation.

There's a void between seasons,
drawn to the place beyond denial -
a maze where all roads
lead back to yesterday.

[LeoVictorBriones (poetremains)]

Marion, I think this poem has an edge of mystery that is intriguing. I think if the poem just read as declarative-active sentences I would add even more mystery to the poem. I would also get rid of some of the qualifiers as I belicve they detract from the emotional intent of the poem as well. I like the title. I also suggest you drop this stanza as it does not live up to the rest of the poem as it is too abstract:

Days drained of enthusiasm,
appetite turns to dusty regret.
I journey toward the unknown,
birthed in separation.

Here is a suggested re-write.

Branches dance naked,
wind sweeps through elms,
a storm darkens the horizon,
clouds drift on winter's edge.

Words, timeworn echoes
trail after a tempest,
“Forgive me they plead.”

Like rain falling on cobblestones
our tears erase loss

Let us, rather, toast the good times—
smash the glass, close the door.

Reflection inhibits sleep,
rose scent remains
walls whisper in silent rooms.

There's a void between seasons,
drawn to the place beyond denial -
a maze where all roads
lead back to yesterday.

Nice poem.

[Marion Poirier]

Thanks Leo, for the read and the suggestions
and for pointing out the abstract stanza. I agree
that poetry should have concrete images.
I like your suggestions - appreciate it.
Regards,
Marion

[David Nelson Bradsher]

Enjoyed, Marion, but I have to pronounce my confusion over the image of rain on cobblestones, and how is that metaphoric of tears erasing loss? I may just be thick this morning, but that's not resonating with me.

[Marion Poirier]

Thanks for the read and comments, David.

It's one of those things that the author
knows - and does not share. (I
find this troublesome in the poems of others.)
I appreciate you bringing this to my attention -
will work on it.

Marion