Faintly (Day 25 of 100 -- Poetry challenge)

in poetry •  7 years ago  (edited)

TJ Blackwell, modified.png

I saw you last night
running through the yard
all those tears
watering the ground

I saw a shadow drift into the distance
like a fog
it eclipsed the moon
light

Now morning has come and it’s cold
there is frost on everything
the roses and camellias
cherry blossoms
and you

I have the heat on
a black blanket
tea in the kettle
drawn curtains
and that
tomb in the basement

Won’t you come in?

Screen Shot 2018-03-31 at 3.07.40 PM.png

  • All pieces are newly crafted and posted shortly after in adherence to the rules of the challenge. All the photos are mine unless otherwise stated.

  • Photo Credit: TJ Blackwell, modified

  • Entry for Day 25 of 100 Days of Poetry Challenge by @d-pend.

  • Join the Steemit School here: https://discord.gg/yZvYjfM organized by @dobartim on Discord.

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You know, this poem, as I mentioned to you the other night, quite reminds me of The Empty House(I), with someone who is inside, looking at someone who is outside, and there's a symbol of death in the cellar, and someone is invited inside.

But the pieces are also quite different. In The Empty House, it is the house that is cold and empty, and outside there is life, so much life. And if the one without will step within, they'll bring their life inside.

But here, the one inside is the one who observes the coldness and death, which is outside. It almost gives the feeling of a vampire story, with a tomb in the basement, and giving permission to come within.

If you read closely, this stanza leaps out at you:

there is frost on everything
the roses and camellias
cherry blossoms
and you

The impression it gives is that the "you" the narrator is speaking to is dead. They're covered in frost. They are akin to the flowers. Red flowers. Pink flowers.
This is almost an anti-Spring poem. Frost and cold and death have come.
And within there is heat. A welcoming darkness. A welcoming closing of the outside. Except when you peer out of the window.

And death.

Won't you come in?
To let darkness wrap around you so warmly. Why would you wish to escape? Why should you shed your tears to warm the cold hard ground, and the would-be-frozen flowers?

A poem about the death of all that is warm and hot, and about the promise of its return.

Won't you come in?

I can't thank you enough for these! <3

It is a lucky person that gets a Guy analysis.

And it's a lucky Guy who has these posts by you to reply to. And you are most welcome. I love giving you gifts <3

i feel it all! the tears, the running, the frost, the fire.. excellent. xo

<3 Thank you, Dear Amy. <3

Love this! Really paints a picture... was it just a vision or was it real? metaphorical or metaphysical?

Really interesting. I like it a lot.

Beautiful work as always!

With Love
Hart Floe Poet

It was a vision of sorts... as I was coming out of dream.
"metaphorical or metaphysical?" -- I think both apply. ;)

Thank you, dear. <3

That man did do you wrong ... wonderful horror write. Just so well-crafted.

I LOVE that you say Horror here.... it came on naturally and so it has that purity. <3

:)

I could imagine the picture with details, you did a gret job painting them in my head ^^

That is always the main intent for me when others read that they see pictures. Thank you kindly. :)

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