Entrance

[billy]

I was going to open
with a story
of how the words came to me
as if they were the gardener
and I the weed,
stalking the azaleas at noon; good first stanza, and i like the first line as a lead in.

but then I thought better of it is 'of it' needed as it feels implied
and searched instead
for the right definition to share:

to dig,
fettered to an old English accent, long time since i read 'fettered
or plunge,
with its roots 'it' feels unnecessary
nestled in a French countryside; another good stanza, i like the way the def's are presented so differently

yet so many words
waited at my doorstep,
some in ties and skirts,
some with smiling mothers,
others with postage on their forehead,
I decided to keep looking
for a way to begin,

lingering in the aisles
where introductions pushed grocery carts,
peaking above the collars
of poems in the library,
breaking into their bedrooms
with a screwdriver and notepad;

when finally, I heard enough
like a jury in a courtroom. i wasn't sure about the simile, jurors don't have a choice

Let us begin
with a moment of silence.

No shells from the past,
no trudges through a dictionary's forest. i get the analogy and like it though what follows feels unconnected to this

Let us begin
with the breath before
the voice,

the fire before
the candle,

the dust before
the polish;

a quiet opening
that winds
to a softer,
softened
end.

i thought the poem went well, wasn't sure if the softer end and it's layout worked as i've seen it done that way (maybe not those exact words) before. for me the poem ended well at;
the voice,

i wish i could say more and give more of the constructive stuff.
thanks as always for the read.