Six Bullets to Love
The First Bullet:
I know you love me,
like I know that on rainy winter days,
the sun still shines.
I know you love me,
like I know, when I look at my grandparents'
black and white wedding album,
that people there sang and made merry.
The Second Bullet:
You tell me you love me,
but to hear me say I love you,
or that this is a relationship,
makes you run away.
You tell me you think of me,
but all your words,
are of lovers past.
You tell me you feel me with you,
but you tell me to not rely on you,
to not turn to you.
The Third Bullet:
In the dark places within my chest,
a long-forgotten flower,
finally bloomed, with your sunlight.
In the lighted caverns within my chest,
a fruit budded,
flushed with juices, and life.
In the now-tight caverns within my chest,
a fruit is ripe,
waiting to be picked.
In the waiting caverns within my chest,
an over-ripe fruit hangs,
spreading corruption.
The Fourth Bullet:
I take to paper,
to excise the poison,
to draw life out,
to return the cavity to a fragrant state,
where the rampant life
is contained once more.
I bleed myself,
and stop,
at the state of the flower.
I cannot go further,
though I wish it.
The Penultimate Bullet:
You keep me in a jar,
on your mantle.
I am your treasure,
you say.
You look at me,
when you wish for summer,
to light through the mists of time.
You listen to me sing,
when you wish reminders,
of your many glories.
You keep me in a jar,
inside your heart.
And during the long months,
when you have no need of me,
I think of flying away,
to where I will be treasured,
every day.
Yet it is the smallest sliver
of expectations,
that presses me down.
The smallest bone
of expectations,
that pins me down.
The smallest emotion of them all,
that keeps me chained,
and unflying.
Hope is the penultimate bullet.
Thanks to @whoshim, @carmalain7, @jrhughes, @carolkean, @moeknows, @dbooster, and @mamadini for their feedback and support on this piece, and with what it depicts. The piece came out as part of making things better, as one of the sections references.
Check out my latest posts:
- Legends Of... - Mythic parables in the form of poetic prose.
- Liquid Steem Rewards are Here - Math Time!
- Silent Origins - Poetic prose.
Art and flair courtesy of @PegasusPhysics
The image used is Baldr's Death by Christoffer Wilhelm Eckersberg, 1817, and is public domain.
© Guy Shalev 2018.
The raw emotions of sections two and four are still extremely emotionally raw and dripping from the page. Wven with the transparent narrator like the one you use in your pieces, Guy, an open door that makes me uncomfortable as a reader; of course, that restless shuffling being exactly the point, and I can't help but commend.
I think I said this during the draft read, but that third section is gorgeously established and carried extended metaphor, and I really appreciate its place in the piece, not only because it gives pause between 2 and 4, but also because it gives me tangible emotional substitute imagery and symbols to cling to.
The third section is also probably closest in tone and approach to what I associate with your writing voice and style, so maybe I'm clinging to it as a crutch, but that also might just be me x_X
I still think that last line transcends last lines. So much to unpackage there, especially in the context of the whole piece. Surprised that's not a phrase that's been absconded by some political movement and campaign. Ah well, missed there chance and the world is better for it.
Speaking of, the world is better for this piece being a transition rather than a bullet - you the man, Guy, enjoyed this read much more than my previous.
I felt like the third section is where the poem devolved and fell apart ripping away from the beauty of the first two sections.
What exactly did you like so much? By the end of the third section there was the line about corruption. Was that the love fruit unpicked rotting in the vine? In the chest? Is the heart the tree and love the bidding fruit?
My world is certainly better for this being a transition, I'm glad to say!
You know, I'd like to hear you speak more of "the transparent narrator." What would make it be non-transparent? And do you feel, then, that this "open door" allows you to see yourself in his shoes? Is that the source of discomfort? That you lose your distance from the piece?
And if so, let us look again at the third section, which as you said:
I feel as if you mean it that you can use the imagery to separate yourself from the piece, that you can now relate to what is told through the symbolic, as mediated, rather than immediate again. And perhaps that is a failure, in drawing you into the piece?
Though that section's imagery and language is indeed something I liked quite a bit myself.
And yeah, that last line is a poem in and of itself. And hey, if ever I make it to the point where people in the larger world know of me, politicians may yet co-opt it! What a thought :P
Thank you again for your continued friendship and feedback, Friend Alain :)
today I had to write a German poem comparison.... why can't I write about such a poem..... ??!
You're German.
I'm unpublished :D
This brought tears to my eyes, you bastard.
The devastating vulnerability of the one who loves (more):
What the beloved, in this poem, seems to be telling you is that the idea of you is more than your reality...
Which makes your dawning realization in The Penultimate Bullet (a fine, stand-alone poem) so crushing... the impotent self-knowledge... Sigh
“The heart has its reasons that reason does not know.” Indeed.
You call me bastard, but don't you read poetry hoping for this reaction? I know that in my early 20s, I sought out media that could make me tear up, because nothing else would. It's still mostly media that can make me tear up now, but it's getting easier. Easier to feel, sadness.
What a thing to seek.
Yet, what else can writers do?
I typed a question to answer the idea you raise, "When is the reality actually better than the idea, of a person?" And the answer is, of course, with love.
I think part of love can be a comedy of errors, in that each side thinks they love and the other does not. That they trade their positions as the one feeling alone. To be in a relationship is to learn to communicate past the gulf of language. Poetry certainly helps, when both sides are poets (And I'm going to not go, "In love, every person is a poet," that's a bit much, okay? :P )
At least "know thyself" is the one stricture I follow, the one rule I try to live up to.
And nothing like some good ol' Pascal :)
Hey, I say bastard as a term of endearment :) And, I do believe that it's not lovers, but Love, that writes poetry. Yet, another reason we need others, to know ourselves, better... through love. I do like what you say about the comedy of errors, but I think that's an early stage of the game, when there's still too much Self (& the pity that comes with it).
Or when there are still scars that require peeling, to let love, and the rest of communication, to come through clearly.
And I knew what you meant, I just gave you a bit of a hard time :P
Those lines were excellent. I could totally relate as both the speaker of things like that and hearing it.
In my experience, @jocelynlily, a love that is true and fulfilling leaves no room for picking the scabs of the past—only a forced & theoretical love does that... Through doing so, revealing its present dissatisfaction...
I really love this piece for its poetic aspects, and I am honored to have had an early look at it. That being said, I am still a little off-put by the thought of that last round. I think that was probably your intention but something within me calls upon me to put the entertainment/poetic aspect of the piece aside for a moment and reach out.
If you ever feel like you need to discuss anything, I am here. Don't hesitate to reach out. Some revolvers only have 5 rounds, and sometimes, that's a good thing.
Well, "The penultimate bullet" clearly hints that this one had 6. It wasn't my "intent" to be off-putting, as in, I didn't write this piece to engender feelings in others, but record how I felt at the time I wrote it. And yes, it is off-putting if you think of it, and the image it evokes is clearly one I meant.
Thank you Moe. I felt really bad last weekend, and this piece covered a bit of it. I also had 25 hours without internet. But I managed to pull through, and things have picked up since, and kept picking up. But the offer of support is very much appreciated. In the end, people are more important than poetry. <3
"Off-putting" wasn't the word I was looking for. What meant to say was "unsettling". I usually try stay within the metaphor of the poetry and seeing it as just that, but sometimes I feel the risk is too great to not break the 4th wall...because I agree, people are more important than poetry. You're good people, so you're important. :-)
Oh, I knew what you meant by "off-putting."
This is touching, truly. Thank you Moe :)
I really enjoyed the first three "bullets" even though I had no idea what the bullets were. Like points? Or are you talking about weapons?
The first three had these awesome images abs similes where I saw the images connected. I felt the pain and anguish of love and confusion from other people who toy with emotions.
But then the end of the third bullet there was this shift where I just could not follow. It was like two different poems smashed together.
I wanted more of the first one. I think I was so pleased by the first half the change was so jarring it turned me off.
The bullets are a reference to a revolver holding six bullets.
I am not surprised you didn't care that much for the 4th and 5th bullets, because judging by your past comment you are not a fan of "abstractions," and these bullets make use of more abstracted imagery and allusions.
As to the nature of the poems, bullets 1-2 could be seen as one poem, bullets 3-4 as another, though yes, the third bullet does not require the fourth, though the 4th requires the third. And the 5th bullet, which is actually my favourite, could be its own poem.
So why did I decide to publish them all as one piece, and it was actually something I've been thinking of? Because it goes over how I felt, and paints a full picture. All of these as a whole set up a bigger imagery, and more angles from which the topic was explored.
So they are not all the same style. But neither are all poems.
I do feel that the 5th bullet is quite close to the 1st and 2nd ones, so would recommend giving it another read in that light, and also letting go of some of the preconceived notions of how poetry and images should be used, though we all have our tastes.
Thank you for the feedback, as always :)
I enjoyed this a lot, depressing and oppressive though it was. I was wondering if you’d forgotten the final bullet. Maybe somebody misfired, shot the jar and freed the molding fruit. Gosh, this is too deep and layered for me. Thanks for sharing.
No bullets were forgotten. You were meant to think of where it is. The final bullet. Five bullets shot, one remains.
And I'm glad you liked it! Not in spite of the emotions it invokes, but even moreso due to them, I think. Art allows us to enjoy things we'd rather not feel in our daily lives.
Beautiful. Stunning. Such emotion and a story that has left me nearly speechless. I am really having a hard time commenting with any kind of coherent thoughts... but it's awesome. #allthefeelings
Thank you Byn <3
Lovely yet sad. Is this your poem?
Ps. The myth of Baldr’s death (and most Norse mythology) is a great story.
All poems I post are mine, yes, and if not, I'll make sure to note it :)
Thanks for the sentiment!
As for Norse mythology, I've been a fan of it since about the third grade, if not even prior. I chose the image afterwards, because it also promises rebirth later. Not in the story itself, but in the larger corpus. After the world ends.
It’s interesting to see artists’ interpretation of “ancient” prose and poetry, through their artwork, that may not have been previously or specifically illustrated.
Oh, this really touched me. sigh
Hopefully you'll never feel this, though :3
I enjoyed line by line. You're brilliant writer. I always like the romantic topic. your poetry make me put on my self into your words!