We gallop through a square room
where your saunter swivels and stings beyond
the lifting glide without warning.
A golden quartet flaps the trees
unlatching my day,
gripping the broken spirit,
Its meander lost on the sky’s
hindrance, smooth and gulping upward.
I slink between tired responses
after shambles fall from my mouth,
our boundaries part.
The words don't fit. They rarely do.
By Tom Merriman
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wordsandthoughtspjs 
I don’t just get that shambles from the mouth part–I’m its poster child
Beautiful…one day we realize, todays pain, becomes a part of the past……it takes time, in fact it demands it. Yes, that is the process, boundaries part….heartbreak between every words.
The title fits the poem.
it feels like a coming apart at the seems….particularly in that last bit pamela…heavy with feeling…hope that you are well….
I want to know more about that mysterious golden quartet. Does it have other tricks up its collective sleeve, and not just flapping trees?
Raven Quartet
You create a sad heaviness in this–almost as if the dance were, indeed, a Valse Triste.
The shambles from the mouth really were the words that strode out..demonstrating quite the opposite perhaps?
I kind of like to meander. Sometimes the process takes you to someplace better.
Shambles from the mouth…oh the feelings and memories attached to those few words. There is a sense of detaching in this, neither cold nor indifferent, but packed with feeling.
Elizabeth
I slink between tired responses
after shambles fall from my mouth,
our boundaries part.
One has to make a stand somehow. There is nothing like putting to a finality where responses take too divergent a view among others. Brilliant write Pamelita!
Hank
heartbreaking poem, especially the last stanza
What beautiful expressions you have used in this one; none better than the “shambles that fall from my mouth”. Well bite my tongue!
Took my breath away.
I am SO struck by this:
“shambles fall from my mouth”
Goodness. What a fantastic spill of words.
Thanks for taking time to visit and comment…you are a good friend,
Elizabeth
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2014/03/a-chat-between-two-poets.html
You are as well, Elizabeth. I read your chat, I just haven’t commented yet. I am watering the garden at the moment, it has been bloody hot the past few days.
Pamela, you are writing your way through, and that is good. I especially loved “the broken spirit,
Its meander lost on the sky’s
hindrance, smooth and gulping upward.” Hang in there, kiddo.
This is a heart-rending poem. And no shambles to it, either!