“Dark at Noon” dVerse Open Link #107

The lilies on the table,
candles in the room,
ashes. Who invents ashes as flowers wilt?
When each hand writes the letters,
longing for dark at noon.
My hand on a door knob like a candle
in wick-blown romance.
The conversation left behind,
an ocean lost in my hands
where the horizon is different than
sorrow’s expectation left behind on the table
with myself unfinished — no explanation.
My hand on a door knob like a candle
in wick-blown romance.
Not knowing why each of us is silent,
sometimes beginnings never evolve.

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22 responses to ““Dark at Noon” dVerse Open Link #107

  1. an ocean lost in my hands
    where the horizon is different than
    sorrow’s expectation left behind on the table
    with myself unfinished

    wow…what a mouthful but felt…love the repetition as well of the hand on the doorknob like a candle…and so true on some beginnings…

  2. yep, all that Brian just said, he picked out the same as me. very good

  3. The setting and repetition strike a beautifully sad chord. Enjoyed the read.

  4. Sometimes the beginnings just stay that way, they never move forward. Great piece.

  5. This is a strong write, Pamela. I just wonder sometimes why some beginnings never evolve.. I have had this happen with people too… have thought that there was a lot in common, but then the friendship never progressed. I think both people have to wish it to, and sometimes that isn’t the case….

  6. The repetition in this poem is very admirable, it made the whole poem feel like an oscilation.

  7. Wow, amazing! You did such a great job with this! Truth!

  8. Beginnings that go nowhere can feel like instant deaths. You’ve expressed something of that sadness and confusion here, Pamela.

  9. Isn’t it sad when everything comes to a standstill, emotion, conversation or just life… you express the loss and confusion so well in this poem Pamela, Dark Noon evokes so much. Wonderfully written. 🙂

  10. the opening is superb,
    you so set the table for what is to come

    The lilies on the table,
    candles in the room,
    ashes. Who invents ashes as flowers wilt?

    and what always seems to make these aborted beginnings worse, neither can or will explain ‘why’ a great poem.

  11. Beautifully done! “ocean lost in my hands, lilies, ashes, …) some poetic language worthy of Pablo Neruda, which is as high a compliment as I know how to give a poet!

  12. Perhaps, some beginning were never meant to evolve so they fade in the soft candlelight.

  13. You did so well at creating a sad mood here. So true that some beginnings never get to blossom.

  14. “My hand on a door knob like a candle
    in wick-blown romance.”

    I love this phrase the empty emotion that can be life of romance lost forgotten or never found. Love your friend found…smiles. 🙂

  15. i agree with myrna – you did well with creating the mood here…so palpably felt… and yes…sometimes things wither before they really started blossoming….always sad…

  16. Wow! This is one helluva poem…Beginnings never moving to somewhere…the structure and mood is beautiful. Great write!

  17. Your final line carries so much weight. This is great, Pamela.

  18. The repetition of “My hand on the door knob…”, the imagery you’ve chose, gives me such a reaction of feeling unfulfilled…as though something expected never came to fruition. Haunting.

  19. Really like this Pamela, the repetition, like our thoughts reaching to understand why the promise never unfolded, you capture much in the imagery of flowers, candles, and ashes.

    Elizabeth
    http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2013/07/31/hand-me-down-lines/

  20. A killer question Pamela: Who invents ashes as flowers wilt?
    this type of poetic question always strikes me deeply and
    makes for a superb juxtaposition that then frames the whole
    in hindsight.

    I had a tech issue with my blog this week but I have posted something
    new. if you get time, please take a look.

    all the best
    arron

  21. Not knowing why each of us is silent,
    sometimes beginnings never evolve.

    The catch-all at the end. Reminiscent of a connection out of sync. Some relationships just stop short without even a beginning. Seen it and often it is with tears! Great take Pamelita!

    Hank

  22. The notion of “wick-blown romance” really brought this home for me, Pamelita. Ashes as flowers wilt. Your knack for conjuring images always impresses. Peace, Amelita

I appreciate all comments.

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