Posts: 19
Threads: 5
Joined: Sep 2013
With eyes as used as spent bullet casings
he glares at her in unseen and silent reproach,
unable to voice his bitter protests
lest her pain overwhelm her once more.
Tenderness for her rides his anger -
a cowpoke busting a maddened bronco -
until his rage is spent and tamed.
Anguish coats his throat
holding back barbs and retorts,
damming them, and damning him
to a continued existence he hates -
another day of desperate duty
another night of marital distance -
then he must rise once more
and trudge off through bitter cold
and unfulfilled dreams
until he cracks, or caves, or dies.
He laces his boots tightly
strangling his ankles in silent metaphor
all too aware of the path he has taken,
mistakes he has made, choices unchosen.
The long road behind him from a place
where screams go unheard,
the rocks and potholes ahead
showing both a one-way sign
and a dead end.
Yet more than his weariness,
more than his concerns over material things,
and even more than his distrust of Fate
what guides his actions is the love he feels
every time she looks at him
and the icy grip around his heart
melts away a little bit more.
For this and this alone,
he pushes his way out into the world once more
trusting in Love to bring him home.
"In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite." - Paul Dirac (1902 - 1984)
Posts: 31
Threads: 7
Joined: Sep 2013
(09-05-2013, 08:37 AM)Reilley Wrote: My ipad wont go to the end of your wonderful poem, but i must say ive ben in the same place in my 25yr marriage w/ kids on both sides, this is Just a rough patch... Her HORMONES tel her to mate w a new man, u hang around long enough & hormones will settle & she will COME BACK TO YOU..! science taught me this & u can google pheramones to confirm ;-)
With eyes as used as spent bullet casings
he glares at her in unseen and silent reproach,
unable to voice his bitter protests
lest her pain overwhelm her once more.
Tenderness for her rides his anger -
a cowpoke busting a maddened bronco -
until his rage is spent and tamed.
Anguish coats his throat
holding back barbs and retorts,
damming them, and damning him
to a continued existence he hates -
another day of desperate duty
another night of marital distance -
then he must rise once more
and trudge off through bitter cold
and unfulfilled dreams
until he cracks, or caves, or dies.
He laces his boots tightly
strangling his ankles in silent metaphor
all too aware of the path he has taken,
mistakes he has made, choices unchosen.
The long road behind him from a place
where screams go unheard,
the rocks and potholes ahead
showing both a one-way sign
and a dead end.
Yet more than his weariness,
more than his concerns over material things,
and even more than his distrust of Fate
what guides his actions is the love he feels
every time she looks at him
and the icy grip around his heart
melts away a little bit more.
For this and this alone,
he pushes his way out into the world once more
trusting in Love to bring him home.
The ghost of my horse Spike runs with me always..!
Posts: 9
Threads: 1
Joined: Sep 2013
It was a bit hard to pinpoint exactly what emotions you were trying to convey. It seemed a bit all over the place. I sense confusion and the poem might work more if you adopted that as the predominant tone. There was also Anger, love, resentment, regret. It was hard to keep up.
Posts: 32
Threads: 4
Joined: Sep 2013
He laces his boots tightly
strangling his ankles in silent metaphor"
In silent metaphor? I think this part should have been left out. Its like over-instructing the reader on what to feel. You need to leave more to the imagination. All the same the poem is very articulate.
Bi aori adan fi sebo, ao lo obe
Posts: 19
Threads: 5
Joined: Sep 2013
(09-06-2013, 06:56 PM)shenaz Wrote: He laces his boots tightly
strangling his ankles in silent metaphor"
In silent metaphor? I think this part should have been left out. Its like over-instructing the reader on what to feel. You need to leave more to the imagination. All the same the poem is very articulate.
Actually, the "silent metaphor" is intended to imply that at that exact moment, he would like to strangle her, instead. 
"In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite." - Paul Dirac (1902 - 1984)
Posts: 32
Threads: 4
Joined: Sep 2013
(09-06-2013, 09:19 PM)Reilley Wrote: (09-06-2013, 06:56 PM)shenaz Wrote: He laces his boots tightly
strangling his ankles in silent metaphor"
In silent metaphor? I think this part should have been left out. Its like over-instructing the reader on what to feel. You need to leave more to the imagination. All the same the poem is very articulate.
Actually, the "silent metaphor" is intended to imply that at that exact moment, he would like to strangle her, instead.
Oh ok! Didn't get that before. Cool analogy. 
Bi aori adan fi sebo, ao lo obe
Posts: 69
Threads: 9
Joined: Aug 2013
(09-05-2013, 08:37 AM)Reilley Wrote: With eyes as used as spent bullet casings
he glares at her in unseen and silent reproach,
unable to voice his bitter protests
lest her pain overwhelm her once more.
Tenderness for her rides his anger -
a cowpoke busting a maddened bronco -
until his rage is spent and tamed.
Anguish coats his throat
holding back barbs and retorts,
damming them, and damning him
to a continued existence he hates -
another day of desperate duty
another night of marital distance -
then he must rise once more
and trudge off through bitter cold
and unfulfilled dreams
until he cracks, or caves, or dies.
He laces his boots tightly
strangling his ankles in silent metaphor
all too aware of the path he has taken,
mistakes he has made, choices unchosen.
The long road behind him from a place
where screams go unheard,
the rocks and potholes ahead
showing both a one-way sign
and a dead end.
Yet more than his weariness,
more than his concerns over material things,
and even more than his distrust of Fate
what guides his actions is the love he feels
every time she looks at him
and the icy grip around his heart
melts away a little bit more.
For this and this alone,
he pushes his way out into the world once more
trusting in Love to bring him home.
I would have prefered it to stop at the dead end, after that seemed like an afterthought of 'oh, hang on, I spose I was a bit harsh for only mentioning tenderness once, I do like my life sometimes'. Stick to the mundane despair, that's what I say.
I liked a lot of the lines in this poem. I'm a sucker for wordiness.
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