Broken

woodblock trees stamp black cross citrus sky,

guard the crest, stand firm against marauders,

seasons march on forwards laying waste the years,

talcum dusted lunar lands, weathered feldspar fields,

hoar-crust roads glint old-foolsgold, xanthene tears.

 

driving to the station, lemon dawnlight breaking,

I’m unaware of just how far your destination’s

taking you. our snowy owl sits knowing, watching

from his sign, it must have been an omen,

should I have turned the music low and spoken?

 

we talked last night, it’s not been long, you said,

twelve weeks four days six hours ten minutes

and still counting, seven million bloody beats

of waiting, longing, missing twinning rhythm,

no wonder I feel weary, beaten, broken.

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3 thoughts on “Broken

  1. jaynestanton 30/01/2011 at 10:20 am Reply

    I like this, Lindsay.
    In the 2nd stanza, carrying ‘you’ over to the next line is confusing – sounds like it’s addressing the owl. Changing ‘I had’ to ‘I’d’ in the 4th line would improve the rhythm.
    In the 3rd stanza, you could add ‘of’ after ‘beats’, but maybe line 4 already has one word too many?
    Do you read your poems aloud to yourself? I’m always surprised when my ear hears what my mind missed. 🙂

  2. lindsaywallerwilkinson 31/01/2011 at 12:43 am Reply

    Thanks Jayne- really appreciate your comments… Yes, not only do I read my stuff out loud- I record it… and listen to it played back- anal or what? Which is why I can’t agree with I’d… maybe the way I read it- for me the emphasis is on ‘I’, but hear what you say about beats of etc and you’re right there… Like it 🙂

  3. jaynestanton 31/01/2011 at 7:05 am Reply

    Ooh! Must try recording myself – great idea!

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