Elementary
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A bastard heart is impossible to quantify.
It defies logic, existing only in theory,
a falsifiable fact. No equation is elegant enough
to equalise this atrophied state.
Like Schroedinger's cat, it is both alive and dead.
How do you reason with a soul-ache?
With a trembling half-smile. You pummel it
back into subclavian caves, check its sell-by date,
reach into the back of your throat and vomit
one promise after the next.
Bang. It explodes. A cracked bumper hanging
on a solitary screw. A long slow honeymoon.
How do you divorce a massive overdraft of
statutes carved in stone? With an ice pick.
This bone-hurt sings from the bones
of your toes to the tip of your nose.
It lives in a dreaming nightmare, it feeds off
your sleep. The night wind kissing your lips.
How do you quantify something so basic,
so urgent in its quasi-solid state? You can't.
A heartbreak, a bone-hurt or a soul-ache is
completely like you, impossible to comprehend. -
Well executed!
I like this one and was impressed at how you managed to maintain an intriguing tone and mood throughout your poem. I also realize you like to use lots of adverbs and verbs with an ‘-ing clause’ hor. -
Amen to all that.
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Hi, this one a rare poem.. very well worked over and complete.. felt enthusiatic reading this one. love the imagery in the 2 and 3rd stanza, the complexity. wonderfully enjoyable...! Do write more please.Originally posted by peebrain:A bastard heart is impossible to quantify.
It defies logic, existing only in theory,
a falsifiable fact. No equation is elegant enough
to equalise this atrophied state.
Like Schroedinger's cat, it is both alive and dead.
How do you reason with a soul-ache?
With a trembling half-smile. You pummel it
back into subclavian caves, check its sell-by date,
reach into the back of your throat and vomit
one promise after the next.
Bang. It explodes. A cracked bumper hanging
on a solitary screw. A long slow honeymoon.
How do you divorce a massive overdraft of
statutes carved in stone? With an ice pick.
This bone-hurt sings from the bones
of your toes to the tip of your nose.
It lives in a dreaming nightmare, it feeds off
your sleep. The night wind kissing your lips.
How do you quantify something so basic,
so urgent in its quasi-solid state? You can't.
A heartbreak, a bone-hurt or a soul-ache is
completely like you, impossible to comprehend. -
i like word play, and sometimes by creating oxymorons, it's easier to convey the duplicity and the incompleteness of certain feelings that are hard to put on paper.Originally posted by DeadPoet:Well executed!
I like this one and was impressed at how you managed to maintain an intriguing tone and mood throughout your poem. I also realize you like to use lots of adverbs and verbs with an ‘-ing clause’ hor.
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Wish I could write you. You rock PB!Originally posted by peebrain:i like word play, and sometimes by creating oxymorons, it's easier to convey the duplicity and the incompleteness of certain feelings that are hard to put on paper.
(Actually I am already quite happy reading them)