The wall outside is
ivy covered, hiding
its energetic lines
Quiet words written
from a hospital bed
seeing nature thrive
With rampant ivy
our hard-headed concrete
realities mesh
Disconnectedly
I see my rose tint lense
shattering in light
No need for seeing
even less for writing
happy tumbleweed
© 2011 Poetry by Paul Dorkin. All rights reserved.
:-)
That's a thoughtful and beautiful juxtaposition -the clinging "rampant" ivy, and the free-wheeling tumbleweed. BTW, I hope you aren't writing from a hospital bed :(
ReplyDeleteThanks Li, I'm fine :) This one is drawn from a haiku written a few years ago - the first four lines
ReplyDeleteLove it! This is seriously good poetry with strong imagery tinted by internal conflict and emotional toil. My favorite kind!
ReplyDeleteLove the phrase "tumbleweed ivy"! Thanks for visiting my page. This site is worth adding to my Great Poets list.
ReplyDeleteI love how the cadence of this poem tumbles along - just like tumbleweed.
ReplyDeleteThings that I like in your poem: 1) The opposition messy ivy/energetic lines of that wall. 2) The opposition hospital bed/nature thrive. In fact, you disguise a bit your symmetrical side. :) You repeat the idea of opposition 4 times, in your first four disguised tercets. In the end you express a final opposition, between what you eventually would like to do (seeing/writing) and you don't or, even better, between the "happy tumbleweed" and the unhappy you... Sometimes I like to read poems this way. And if you are in that hospital bed, get better soon!
ReplyDeleteSeabell, thanks for the analysis, to write of oppositions - the original haiku arose from a dark time with poetry a means to engage with hope, happiness lies somewhere in the middle ;) thanks all for commenting!
ReplyDeleteMuch depth to your words...
ReplyDeletehappy tumbleweed.... if only more tumbleweed was made the most of... :] thanks. :] xx
ReplyDeletevery stunning words.
ReplyDeletelove your vocabulary, smiles.
happy rally.
Its amazing how ivy can both choke and bring life to a man made structure. It is a great read my friend and I hope your recovery goes well :).
ReplyDeletei have nothing to say but "WOW".
ReplyDeleteA poem to read over and over again. Ivy conquers all, such tenacity.
ReplyDelete5 times a great haiku does a beautiful poem make.
ReplyDeleteIt reminds me of my school, I've just finished. Nostalgic...
ReplyDeletelovely
ReplyDeleteit seems that the fight is given up within
ReplyDeleteand acceptance breathes out
simply is~
that's a peaceful place
earlier this week speaking with my doctor i turned the conversation on him. who asks him? who cares for him? i told him i was sad for the small and high window in his office which stared longingly up at the pine. larger windows, i said. why not? he said he dreamed of a better place. told me to build an ashram, a health center focused on the healing instead of whatever it is our health system is focused on - the prolonging? i said, oh, i don't organize and build. i just go. but i think of all of the patients and all of that ivy. i think of the doctors too.
i'm glad you are well right now.
xo
erin
very deep and thoughtful write...
ReplyDeletewell penned
breathe in strife
ReplyDeletebreathe out the universe
not an acceptance of an end
but at rest in being
nice to hear from you erin- I am very well :-) !!
beautifully written.
ReplyDeletetumbleweed ivy,
ReplyDeleteThe wall outside is
ivy covered, hiding
its energetic lines
...
Nicely penned!!!
Beautiful poem and good look on your recovery =) I have always loved the duality of ivy tenacious and eroding yet graceful in appearance I wasn't even managing a graceful facade during my hospital stay I was just cranky lol
ReplyDeleteJust to clarify, thank you all for your encouragement and get well wishes - but I am not ill at the moment, the poem really does relate to a haiku written three years ago and since then I've been very well :-) To write the poem I took an old haiku of mine and expanded it to see where it would go. Thanks again!
ReplyDeleteAnd yes when I was in - I was also really cranky :-)
ReplyDeleteThat reminds me of drawing beach scenes on hospital windows with lipstick. Sad, itchy, wonderful.
ReplyDeletelovely poem :)
ReplyDelete