Some words

The dverse prompt this evening is to write about the art of poetry. I think this poem is a draught, to be worked at and refined. I don’t often do that, but maybe the subject warrants it.

 

There are some words that never can be said,

And some songs that never should be sung,

While the sun is sinking in the sky.

There are some places we should never go,

Some dark and silent corners of the past

That should lie untouched beneath their withered shrouds.

The words that hurt or open half-healed wounds,

The songs brought in poor baggage wrapped in sighs,

The tears that glisten in an old one’s eye,

This beauty, terrible and fierce, that I

Would paint with cries of cub and kit,

In falcon feathers across the wintry sky,

Is all, of life of love,

And the quiet of solace of death.

 

 

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

55 thoughts on “Some words”

  1. The deep and silent echo of those words and thoughts which should never be uttered flows through this piece and perhaps serves as a reminder that whilst we may not speak of them we draw from them. Wonderful writing.

  2. If I were to give your poem a title, I would call it “Poetic Wisdom”. Choosing what and what not to say is the ongoing joy we have each day!
    Dwight

  3. Your opening lines remind me there is always a part of me that I can’t share or post to the world ~ This is beautifully fierce, honest and brave ~ An amazing perpective of writing about our darkness, love of life and death ~

  4. Terrific write – the line ‘The songs brought in poor baggage wrapped in sighs,’ took me to all those refugees hoping for a new safe life somewhere. Add in life, death, beauty, the world: all great reasons to write. Bravo.

  5. This is beautiful as it stands, I love the ending.
    In falcon feathers across the wintry sky,

    Is all, of life of love,

    And the quiet of solace of death.

    πŸ’œπŸ’œπŸ’œ

    1. Thanks Bekkie. I don’t think it’s the role of poetry to be simply navel-gazing. It has to be universal, inclusive, all-embracing, even when it’s hard to listen to.

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