Falling
-
The hands of the clock
have stopped,
as if to mark the transit
of inertia into permanent motion.
The brownstone cracks
from the brunt of disrepair.
All is falling.
In the grand scheme of things
I fall so others may rise,
though they remain
where they are,
the act of falling
tricks the mind into accepting
the way things that are
and will remain. As a whole, unwhole.
Just like the winds
rushing to fill in an opening,
a beginning
that begins from what is already missing.
I become the illusion,
a comparative one,
a contrasting one,
a one that forms a stern letter 'I'
braced for the weight of the sky.
In giving myself up, I give away nothing.
What is left of me
is no longer right.
So it moves to move away the excess.
So it falls to fall behind the rest.
When it falls.
If it falls.
All is false.
In falling,
the failings of life's delight
rise up like the moon
shrouded in fog, milky and unclear. -
The hands of the clock
have stopped,
as if to mark the transit
of inertia into permanent motion.
Nice sound, great to read aloud.
The brownstone cracks
from the brunt of disrepair.
Nice image here.
All is falling.
In the grand scheme of things
I fall so others may rise,
though they remain
where they are,
the act of falling
tricks the mind into accepting
the way things that are
and will remain. As a whole, unwhole.
A very interesting concept.
Just like the winds
rushing to fill in an opening,
a beginning
that begins from what is already missing.
This stanza is awkward, but I like the sentiment.
I become the illusion,
a comparative one,
a contrasting one,
a one that forms a stern letter 'I'
braced for the weight of the sky.
Wow, love the image.
In giving myself up, I give away nothing.
What is left of me
is no longer right.
So it moves to move away the excess.
So it falls to fall behind the rest.
When it falls.
If it falls.
All is false.
In falling,
the failings of life's delight
rise up like the moon
shrouded in fog, milky and unclear.
Nice ending.
Just curious why the repetitions of “falls”? Despite the strong words, I detect a hint of sadness and haplessness in this poem.
-
-
Want to comment on this poem Mr Green?Originally posted by soulwinner: 
-
brilliantly done.. inspirational.. thanks!Originally posted by peebrain:The hands of the clock
have stopped,
as if to mark the transit
of inertia into permanent motion.
The brownstone cracks
from the brunt of disrepair.
All is falling.
In the grand scheme of things
I fall so others may rise,
though they remain
where they are,
the act of falling
tricks the mind into accepting
the way things that are
and will remain. As a whole, unwhole.
Just like the winds
rushing to fill in an opening,
a beginning
that begins from what is already missing.
I become the illusion,
a comparative one,
a contrasting one,
a one that forms a stern letter 'I'
braced for the weight of the sky.
In giving myself up, I give away nothing.
What is left of me
is no longer right.
So it moves to move away the excess.
So it falls to fall behind the rest.
When it falls.
If it falls.
All is false.
In falling,
the failings of life's delight
rise up like the moon
shrouded in fog, milky and unclear. -
Originally posted by DeadPoet:
'Falling' could mean so many things, doesn't it? It could mean the physical act of falling, the loss of grace, even the frustration sense of inertia and never measuring up e.g. falling behind...
Just curious why the repetitions of “falls”? Despite the strong words, I detect a hint of sadness and haplessness in this poem.
and this was what I set out to explore and delve into. -
Indeed. That is why I find this word so interesting in this poem. Reminds me of the word "play" in The Winter's Tale.Originally posted by peebrain:'Falling' could mean so many things, doesn't it? It could mean the physical act of falling, the loss of grace, even the frustration sense of inertia and never measuring up e.g. falling behind...
and this was what I set out to explore and delve into.