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lovesick
By Jonas
the winter wind blows
strong and cold
and the grass on the rolling hills
flows like water
like symphony
in the key of green
my heart is heavy
and so full of you
the axis of the earth
directs my hemisphere toward the cold stars
and the aspect of the sun is beautifully
diminished
tears start and i fight them
then i remember to surrender
i love you to the extent of my heart's ability
my heart the beggar
where all i've got is
always a penny short
and the wind continues
across the california green
that stubbornly persists through
deep winter
and the new year insistently knocks
on the door of tomorrow
i am comforted
at least
by the knowledge that the sun is climbing
and minute by minute the night is pushed back
such is the insistence of my
love
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Copyright 2014 Jonas
Published on Wednesday, December 31, 2014.
Filed under:
"Poetry"
Comments on "lovesick"
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On Monday, January 5, 2015, Railway_Butterfly
(354)
wrote:
Do you know, I kind of abandoned all my notions about leaving any kind of successfully profound comment on any of the works in this place a long time ago. I'm simply no good at it. But sometimes it seems such a shame to walk away from something and to leave absolutely no acknowledgement of the effect that it's had... perhaps that's why there have never been any 'like' buttons here, and why favourites are limited; we're supposed to be writers and I guess that encourages us all to say something of consideration and worth when we do... but then that's probably another reason I'm no longer here. I suck at expressing myself concisely. These days I need the length of a novel to render a journey or idea that some can do in a poem... as you have done here, in so many ways. I realise I've said a load of stuff here without really saying anything, and sort of made it all about me... I don't know how to not make it about me, really. You didn't write this with any intention or understanding of me personally, as a reader... and yet you've struck this big, thick chord in my heart. I don't know anything about where this piece has come from, nor could I deign to. I don't know anything about you. All I have the scope to do is comment on what it all means to me, for my own reasons... I read this a few nights ago when I was drunk. Then again a few nights later, when I was drunk again, and again tonight when I'm... sort of recovering from a few solid months of drunkeness. What can I say, other than that you've reeled me in? I loved this, not just because it resonated with where I find myself these days, but because I feel it so deeply, that I can only imagine (Or romanticise - if I'm choosing to be cynical, which I generally don't...) everything that precedes the creation of this piece. I can't help but fall in love with that. It's odd actually that I don't recall receiving an email from the site notifying me of a new post from one of my favourites, for years now... perhaps none of them are posting anymore. Perhaps it's some other sort of fluke that I can draw some neat, self-serving conclusion of. For all the nothing I've said here, I can be clear on the fact that I'm really pleased to see you posting again. To know that you're still writing. It's... exciting. Encouraging. And ultimately just bloody lovely. In all of these years, almost nothing has transcended one stage of my life into the next, and so... finding a weight and meaning here again in the form of another's writing is just so... unexpected, and yet, so ultimately wonderful. I feel like I should end that with a 'thank you' but it sounds kind of wanky. I trust that my underlying thanks will emerge somehow, beneath the ramble.
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On Thursday, June 29, 2017, Jonas
(720) wrote:
This is one of the most wonderful comments I've ever recieved. The last several years have been fairly dry for me from an artistic perspective(they've been great from an adult, utilitarian perspective). The long, dark night of my soul seems to be ending and I am inspired again. Your words here are like a rising wind on a brush fire. For such a long time I've thought "what's the point" when it comes to writing poetry... Well, your comment is the answer and it's a good one. Many heartfelt thanks.
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On Thursday, January 1, 2015, Nimue44
(296) wrote:
This is soothing. It aches. The first part seemed so perfect to me, I almost cried: "like symphony in key of green". The feeling that how much you love it will never be enough, to reach her, to be able to love how much you'd want to. This touched me. Brava!
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