A poem, a place

There is a red stained desk
beneath a deep set window
that looks out on a confusion
of trees and vines.  I built

that window box, molded
its contours in clay and straw,

as I’ve carved poetry out
beneath its watchful eye.
There are no hard edges here,
no jutting corners, accusations

are muffled, even

11 Comments

Filed under lust and love, Musings, poetry, poetry thursday, writing

11 responses to “A poem, a place

  1. that’s so comforting! no writer’s block for you. . .

  2. I really like the images of workmanship both in the place and in the poetry.

  3. G

    I like many things about this poem… notably, the red stain on the desk (from “carv(ing) out poetry”, maybe) and the view out the window of thriving life. I imagine the “trees and vines” to be growing from the desk as well. Thanks!

  4. I like the solid anglosaxon words. It’s all so sturdy. Except the little places where it’s not. The confusion, the watchful eye, the accusations. The balance is perfect and the ending so abrupt but just so right.

    (watch out for “it’s” – delete this note after you change it).

  5. yea, I can imagine you sitting at that desk writing your poetry. Thanx for sharing ^_^

  6. i like the idea of poetry being carved out.

    i love the descriptions in this poem, it inspires me to create my own special writing space.

  7. Thank you all for the notes. I have fixed the offending posessive, and I am woman enough to admit my mistakes, so I will leave the note about it as is. Har har.

    This is actually a place where I used to go to write poetry. It was great.

    Thanks again…

  8. That is an absolutely beautiful image.

    It’s nice to find a fellow Girl in the Cafe reader from the states!

  9. Interesting ending – love the implications of the “red-stained” desk.

  10. Although it changes, but I was having a look at this ‘strange’ poem once and again, as if there were something hidden I couldn’t get the clue of. After many days and many days after, I finally concluded that it seemed to describe someone who is horribly sad (and perhaps sad is not the word) and in a desperate attempt not to leave beauty disappear fixes it exactly on an empirical image just in front. Frankly, rare.

  11. Wow, thank you Sonja. That was a lovely sort of comment. I really appreciate your thoughtful reading.

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