in me

they told me broken souls
are beautiful
they told me fragility is prized
they told me if i would only
let my guard down
i would see beauty in the
fragile things
in me

i told them broken souls
can be ugly
i told them fragility can be shattered
i told them if i would really
let my guard down
they would see horror in the
natural hunger
in me

i let my guard down
they saw the
natural hunger of this fragile thing
they ran screaming
and i see them beyond
the protection of my love
i see them, blurred
their concrete walls
belying their claims to prizing fragility
but my vision is focused
sharp as a laser on the
wild memories
in me


Linked to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads: http://withrealtoads.blogspot.ca/2017/07/fragile-natural-wild-with-magaly.html?m=1

I bent the rules a little (because that’s how I roll) and used all three images and phrases.

fragile things

by Robert Draves (@draves.robert)

natural hungers

by Robert Draves (@draves.robert)

wild memories

by Magaly Guerrero (@magalyguerreroindarkerwords)

 

by Robert Draves (@draves.robert)

17 thoughts on “in me

  1. I wish you could’ve seen my face, heard the sounds that left my mouth when I finished reading this. I just love it when a poem touches all my senses, my knowings, wink at my bright and dance madly with my shadows. There is nothing I don’t love about this piece. I’m taken by its structure, its ferocity, its terrible truths… and yes, by the screaming, too.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Your Yeats epigraph to the blog is so telling in the poem — poetry is the lush jungle outside the civil social arrangement. We took an old cat in recently, a stray we’d fed for 15 years, because outside is a wild and dangerous place. There are reasons there are doors and walls. Sorry, great strength and suppleness in the poem, looking forward to reading you more at the Imaginary Garden.

    Like

  3. The veil of illusions and misunderstandings in perceptions, demands, projections and expectations falls like a glass curtain herein this poem – powerfully written with the repetition of certain words and phrases, it draws out the essences of how we are torn between the authentic within ourselves – both dark and light – how we engage and interact – how we are received, not only by others, but also by ourselves. Edgy and powerful – and I appreciate how without naming specifics or details, you’ve captured this fragile, wild and hungry interaction and essence within – while allowing us to share the experience, as it relates not only to ourselves, but on a much broader scale. And I particularly love the last 4 lines – laser sharpened focus on the wild within me – it’s haunting in possibilities.

    Like

  4. let my guard down
    they would see horror in the
    natural hunger
    in me

    I LOVE these lines, believing as I do in forewarning. So long as knowledge of self allows for both the good and the bad, then no further explanation is necessary.

    Like

  5. This is crazy good. The way you constructed the lines themselves reflect both delicateness and strength. That lowercase i is kind of amazing. Every part fits together beautifully, delicate as lace, stronger than steel.

    Like

    1. Thank you โค โค โค
      I used to use the lowercase i a lot. I heard a rabbi say, years ago in a lecture, that English is the only language so self-centered that it capitalizes the I and doesn't capitalize the you. Obviously, I think that's bullshit. But some things make an impression on you and never go away. I have a whole slew of poems which might be called my "lowercase-i" period when I'm a famous writer someday ๐Ÿ˜€ This time, it was half by accident. I was typing on my phone, writing this poem as I waited for my flight home yesterday. And while autocorrect usually capitalizes the I, for one instance it didn't. And I stared at that small i and thought – that's how the whole poem should be…

      Like

  6. such a well written poem…how could they know unless they too had experienced or perhaps allowed that fragility, that natural hunger…they perhaps run not from you but from their walled self. I loved this.

    Like

  7. This is a truly wonderful poem, beautifully written, containing much life wisdom. I just posted mine and, like you, I incorporated all three. Very cool to read your poem. Thank you.

    Like

  8. I am so glad you broke the rules in this wonderful poem. So much truth in it – the fragility, the cement walls, the screaming. From broken soul to wrathful woman – very nice.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s