This Poem was Submitted By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2006-11-27 11:20:01 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!

Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!

Falls Are Bronze and Gray

If I fall, I fall.  There is a grave, And in its arms are your arms, In its grip your hand, under its spell Your breath, our burden, your hurts, our pains. I stand at the stone and pry into your message, Rub away the mass of moss creeping along Its unfinished edges, I manage to find an ort, A single wavelet, a page from your memoir. I return to mingle with the same ghosts, And we cast aspersions like dice, like rice, And they rain down on you, on this gray Sunday, Where morning stiffly stretches toward noon. I stumble back to the car I left it running. I’m running.  Away.  As fast as feet can go That never ventured your way enough in life, And now, in your death, can only wave goodbye.

Copyright © November 2006 Thomas Edward Wright

This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2006-12-07 22:30:09
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Ho, The fruit rotting away from the vine. I mean, Vine. Nasty. Noxie

This Poem was Critiqued By: Teresa Green On Date: 2006-12-04 08:23:46
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Thomas, Killing me softly... Lost my Mother 8 years ago. Can not find the words to say what this one does to me. But it does... If I fall. Thanks for this Teresa
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2006-12-03 17:54:25
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.50000
Thomas, This is quite good. Visiting the grave of your wife. Many feel as you and rewind to times past and must move on. This poem speaks honestly and says how it was. No fancy 'oh my's' I liked this: I stumble back to the car I left it running. I’m running. Away. As fast as feet can go That never ventured your way enough in life, And now, in your death, can only wave goodbye. I like it all actually. It seems you are now free to be thee...... I know how you feel. Good job Dellena
This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2006-12-03 16:43:18
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.50000
Hi Tom......touching this one packed with feelings, emotions that some find hard to share.......your words flow like a river as it catches those rain drops that are falling and the sight you present with your words are intense. Thanks for sharing, God Bless, Claire
This Poem was Critiqued By: Rachel F. Spinoza On Date: 2006-11-29 14:42:50
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
and some poems are gold. This is what poetry can be - like dice - like rice. and if i fall, i fall - there is a grave [wow] bravo R
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Andrew Hislop On Date: 2006-11-28 00:12:49
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
TEW If I mishandle this delicate specimen, I'll kill it. Hooray. A live one. At last. MAH
This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2006-11-27 17:20:41
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Deep within, we know an address to the dead is a soliloquy to ourselves. Coming to terms with loss is not only the boast of mourning, hair pulling and fits of crying, but the labor of thought through the mind struggling to come to terms with its own thought obligation to mortality. You, like Camus' protagonist in, The Stranger, have found your own way and, like him, it traffics little with appearance. It is a profundity the gesticulating will never know. The use of seasonal reference is splendid in its capture, reflecting your brief blending, as summer into fall, fall into winter, from life to death while still "exonerating" attachement in, "Your breath, our burden, your hurts, our pain." The connection is not, nor ever, gone. In posing a "return to mingle with the same ghosts" you create an interesting contradiction that becomes only resolved in your again intellectualizing the connection to the dead memorially. The reader is brought, as I'm certain you intended, to view that "wave goodbye" as not nearly so final as ultimate resignation. For you have a favored place retained. I only hope that I might someday be mourned the same way. JCH
This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2006-11-27 16:18:54
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.94737
Hi Tom...well, this poems grabs me and will not let go. For anyone who has suffered an unimaginable death of a loved one this poem will hold their hearts captive for a very long time. You have employed some word choices that are lovely which gives this reader some solace despite the grim theme. "When morning stiffly stretches toward noon" is my favorite line if I had to pick one. When I sit beside my husband's grave I even whisper to him. I know he is not there but I do it anyway. I can feel the pathos inside your lines and between them...I can, because I go to that sad place too. Great poem...glad to see you back here once again (by the way can I call you "Ho?" Cheers....Marilyn
Poetry Contests Online at The Poetic Link

Click HERE to return to Database Page!