I Have To Be Ready (Revision)

[determinedtofail]

I Have To Be Ready Revision

I woke
before the silence rang.

I could not go back to bed.
The world was sleeping
and the space to dream, was there.

Something pulled at me.
I felt its heartbeat
run past my ear
thumping,
like an unnamed question.

My last poem
looks over my back
preening and sharpening its whiskers.

I can not go chasing after it.
The tail will disappear into an unbearable silence
the hallway will dwell on empty perfume.

I have this fear of going to sleep
and missing its arrival.
No note will be left at my door.

Yet, perhaps it waits,
inside the post office,
with architecture;
holding time and the flavor of memories.

I have to be ready.
I have to be ready!
I have to be ready....

With suitcases, hugs, a strange aroma,
and an alien tongue;
wait for it to come prancing up next to me,
rubbing against the fence posts,
looking for my eyes,
and somehow
like the forbearance of storms
it remains silent, just long enough
to carry where the sidewalk ends.

At times
I can feel the eyes of buildings,
the sigh from trees,
the weight of birds inclined glances-
leaning against the edge of my chest,
but I dare not say a word.

----Austin10-10-09


b]Not A Word[/b]

I woke up.
The word was sleeping
and the space to dream, was there.

I could not go back to bed.
Something pulled at me.
I felt its unnamed heartbeat
run past my ear thumping,
like an unnamed question.

My last poem
looks over my shoulder
preening and sharpening its whiskers.

I can not go chasing after it.
The tail will disappear into an unbearable silence
and its perfume will haunt these hallways.

I have this fear of going to sleep
and missing its arrival.
No note will be left at my door,
yet, perhaps it waits,
inside the post office
with architecture
holding time and the flavor of memories.

I have to be ready
with suitcases, hugs, a strange aroma,
and an alien tongue;
wait for it to come prancing up next to me
rubbing against the fence posts
looking for my eyes,
and somehow
like the forbearance of storms
it remains silent, just long enough
to carry where the sidewalk ends.

At times
I can feel the eyes of buildings,
the sigh from trees,
the weight of birds inclined glances-
leaning against the edge of my chest,
but I do not dare say a word.

----Austin10-10-09

[purplejacket]

Hi there,
You have some very nice things here, but I think the poem will bemuch stronger if you remove all of the "This happened to me" stuff from it. For instance:

Oct 11, 2009 12:57:21 GMT -5 determinedtofail said:

Not A Word

I woke up.
The word was sleeping
and the space to dream, was there.

I could not go back to bed.
Something pulled at me.
I felt its unnamed heartbeat
ran past my ear thumping,
like an unnamed question.

At first I wasn't sure why you were calling these things unnamed, but now I am wondering if that's because they're coming from an elusive word.

[mfwilkie]

Shawn,

My advice: throw everything out and start over with:


I woke up to my last poem
sharpening its claws.

Keep it clear and on subject.


Maggie

[ramadevi]

Definitely needs tightening and trimming.

Loved this part-

My last poem
looks over my back
preening and sharpening its whiskers. (claws does work better)

I can not go chasing after it.
The tail will disappear into an unbearable silence
the hallway will dwell on empty perfume.

[determinedtofail]

Thanks you guys,

Changed up the beginning a little.

I kept whiskers instead of claws. Had an emotional images of a Frenchman sharpening his mustache and this chinchilla that I once had, that would pull on his whiskers while giving me the stink eye. I agree claws sounds better, but just couldn't bring myself to change the integrity of that word.


--Austin

[Marion Poirier]

Interesting poem, Austin. I'd trim or eliminate
S9, the stanza after I have to be ready.
Also, one line of ready is enough, three is
over-kill. You have this line in the title so don't
need it at all; a title should add some insight
into the poem - not merely repeat what you've
written in the poem.

You have a unique and poetic way of
expression; however, IMHO, you ramble on too
much in your enthusiasm.
Marion