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Clutter
by Wayne TateYou can say you missed me,
that you waited
for my crooked smile
to form outside of the haze.
The forgotten transgressions
turning into full trespass,
as I closed the gate behind me
and trudged up the naked path.
I could have stayed
inside you forever
as I walked down the hallway;
taping every window shut
Stopping to feel the rain pelting the glass
with my palm wide open
as I desperately searched for a pattern
that would tell me you were near.
I saw my fingers breathe.
Attaching their soft pulse
to cool clear rhythms
though you felt miles away
And all I could hear
was the sound of a wet drum;
the water sliding from view,
mingling with memories
I recall the distance of your light.
The groaning; the cracking
of a well-worn bridge
behind me. 11/21/2010 Author's Note: The hardest thing to wonder is if this was worth the wait.
Posted on 11/21/2010
Copyright © 2024 Wayne Tate
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Sarah Wolf on 11/21/10 at 02:41 PM The second and third stanza are the best. You write in such a passionate refined grace. Most people stumble all over them selves trying to express feelings such as these. I would describe this as a stunning intimacy with your own awareness. What a come back! Glad you are writing again :) |
| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 11/21/10 at 04:37 PM ...worth the wait? certainly, for me. this is beautifully spotted like a leopard; realities that are there and those we invent[or make real]; a good shovel-ful of a mixed bag--such as life, love...worth, value [to self and [an other!] ] yet, we trudge onward. healthy write on a never-ending subject. |
| Posted by Tony Whitaker on 11/22/10 at 09:17 AM A metaphorical feast this read. A poem I wish I had written! |
| Posted by Linda Fuller on 11/23/10 at 11:46 PM This is lovely - I keep coming back to it. |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 12/17/10 at 03:27 PM If I were a movie producer/director, what a moving picture this would make, you walking down the hall, groaning, cracking bridge behind you. The camera moves over your shoulder and down - continuing inches above the wooden slats of the surface. And in the soft coral light beyond images of a man in pained conversation with another... Thanks for this wonderful piece, Wayne. I appreciate your allowing me to walk briefly with you. Wonderful write. |
| Posted by Kris Mara on 01/13/11 at 02:25 AM I wish I had the words right now to express everything I love about this piece. Your words are woven well...clearly and engagingly (hope I'm making sense tonight). Anyway, it's good to hear your voice again...it's been too long... |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 02/08/11 at 05:48 AM Yes, definitely. It's full of all of the things I've always loved best about your poetry! |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 06/11/11 at 09:28 PM There is a poignant wistfulness in this near dirge of what appears a dead or dying romance. |
| Posted by Gail Wolper on 12/02/12 at 01:56 AM You write crisp and clean. I feel like I take a good shower when I read your stuff.
First stanza rocks, third and fourth---oh why bother, the whole piece is great! |
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