Bright and Early
by Kristine Briese
This morning crawls out of its shell
sluggishly, like a hermit crab.
I haven't been up this early for months.
It takes a special kind of tolerance,
one I no longer have, to witness
sunlight on that side of the house.
When you were here, you used
that sunlight to spin gold
from my hair, even though
my hair is brown. You tricked
each strand, smiling and coaxing
shimmery webs from seemingly nothing.
But that was before I
lost my faith in the morning,
before the afternoon and evening
overtook me like an oil spill.
That was before your face
became my face, before
your loss became my loss.
Author's Note: In progress. Still trying to make it back.
Posted on 05/30/2011
Copyright © 2021 Kristine Briese
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Ken Harnisch on 05/30/11 at 06:30 PM|
If you're still trying to make it back, Kristine, I'd say you're already there. That first stanza is perfect and timely, because I got up myself this morning earlier than I wanted to and witnessed the sunlight hitting the side of the house in a way I seldom see. A fact? Yes. A metaphor? Perhaps. All I know is, this poem brought it all back and when a poem does that, the poet is much further along than she thinks. May the rest of your journey produce fruit as sweet as this.
|Posted by Joe Cramer on 05/30/11 at 10:01 PM|
... an excellent write.....
|Posted by Aaron Blair on 06/01/11 at 02:22 PM|
"evening overtook me like an oil spill" is an excellent turn of phrase. The whole thing is great, but, obviously, I especially like the last stanza. I love when people can take a small moment in time and not only parse it into the parts that make it beautiful and memorable, but also illustrate the ways in which those small moments are connected to the greater themes of life. Love, loss, etc. You do that really well, which is one of the reasons why your poetry is so good.
|Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 06/05/11 at 06:48 PM|
The whole power of the morning as wiping the slate clean is totally changed by this intense reflection of loss and identity; your face vs. my face. Touché Kristine!
|Posted by Rachelle Howe on 07/21/11 at 11:12 PM|
WOW! KEEP GOING! KEEP GOING! The nuggets twist and draw, desire and decadence... Come hither.
|Posted by Brian Roberts on 10/21/11 at 10:08 PM|
Kristine......your talent is self-evident, I loved the stanza which relates the spinning of your brown hair into gold..I am moved by your sense of loss and malaise. And thank you for your kind comments on my work. I have been writing more as of late, thus more posts are imminent....encouragement such as yours is an impetus for my writing. Thank you again.
|Posted by Lori Blair on 12/19/11 at 12:24 AM|
That final line took me, and I am there...and though my hair is not so fair..I am there! Excellent piece indeed! Thank you!
|Posted by Elizabeth Shaw on 12/26/11 at 04:27 PM|
yes, very powerful. For me the last two lines, coupled with the prior imagery, hit it home.
|Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 12/29/11 at 03:05 AM|
Awareness is half the battle. Yes, awakening in the morning returns us to life, but also to awareness of death. Poetry loves a life in limbo!
|Posted by Tony Whitaker on 01/01/12 at 09:31 AM|
Dang, Krstine, what a wonderful write. THis is absolutely a great peice of writing. I don't know if it comes from that cutting ache we have all endured, but you are a great writer. Don;t think I have seen your writing before, but I don't come here like I use to. Happy New Year, and I mean "Happy", for you and your road back to it!
|Posted by Laura Doom on 01/12/12 at 12:17 AM|
I'm kin of buried down here, but not surprised. Knowing you (as well as I can through your writing), I know your note isn't false modesty, though is does suggest you are hopelessly deluded :>