Saved

The earth has changed –
there’s been five seasons
just this year, the print
confides in hidden braille,
I read it now with
gentle lips.

Hell has spread
it’s poem well
in mystic fog, cleverly
cloaked above the sea,
I read it now,
it swallows me.

Tomorrow, I write,
in fair blue skies,
and pass this poem
to strangers’ eyes,

they’ll read my words,
of mystic fog,
my journey from be-
neath the sea,

the light within
will always break free

I write it down,
it swallows
me, it swallows
pen, it
flows
from me.

I decided to extend a shorter poem I wrote on twitter a while back that was a tad depressing. I gave it a happier ending! The original was titled, Drowning.

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for writers around the globe. Today Peter from Australia asks us to consider endings and gives several suggestions on how to write great ones! It’s our last prompt of 2020 as dVerse takes a winter vacation and returns with a haibun prompt on January 4, 2021.







30 thoughts on “Saved

  1. Lovely piece Tricia – that last stanza is wonderful – as is the refrain, ‘I write it down, it swallows me’ – this paradox of creating / and losing identity – and losing control too – now the poem is out there being read, maybe misunderstood – it’s no longer yours to control. Such an odd thing we do with language, with words. Thank you.

  2. May the light shine so bright. I so enjoyed your poem, specially the line breaks in the end:

    I write it down,
    it swallows
    me, it swallows
    from me.

    Thank you for being part of our poetry community. Happy Holidays to you and yours!

  3. I love the idea of five seasons.

    I often joke with my daughter about their being 8 days in a week or 5 seasons in a year, etc., and she get super annoyed with me (she’s nearly 6 😉 )

    -David

    • Wordsworth’s poem “Nutting,” referred to 5 seasons,
      “The violets of five seasons re-appear
      And fade, unseen by any human eye”
      He may have used it in another poem too, I can’t remember, but I think 2020 has definitely had 5 seasons!
      Six years old is a fun age, my son is 15 now and definitely a know-it-all!

  4. I love the shift from minor to major in this poem, Tricia, the ebb and flow, and the delicate imagery. I especially love the lines:
    ‘…the print
    confides in hidden braille,
    I read it now with
    gentle lips’
    and
    ‘I write it down,
    it swallows
    me, it swallows
    pen, it
    flows
    from me.’

  5. Despite the despair of 2020, I like to think ‘the light within will always break free”. Let’s raise our cup to 2021!

  6. Tricia, so nice to be saved, we are all together, interesting refraction on drowning, to be swallowed by life, that which we are and which also consumes us, I love this. My poem this time round was also an extension of a previous poem, I did a Quadrille a couple years ago called Don’t Let Go, and this one is Called “Let Go” 🙂

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