Am, Are, or: Always

no doors in walls to Keep out fear
 just: Look and See, but no walls there...
  once structures, now Convulsing lines
   there's Is, there's Was, less timeless rhymes
    no what, no I, but only Am
     Am Flail for textures; Whisper, "damn..."
      unbearable, Am's Feels Are Galled
       Walled in, Crawling, no space at all!

nouns swiftly Twisting into verbs
 Think straight! no theater left to Be absurd
  Am Think, Think Knows, and on it Goes...
   and then: Am Start. "Do Are Suppose?"
    Are Could Aid Am by Opening...
     the... the... constantly Creaking th...ing?
      Are Know... what... Am... Am Trying to Say...
       dear, Grab the Turns and Pull that... way...

Hope Looks; Look Sees; See Steps; Step Lands-
 Am find myself in Are's... dear hands?
  hands warm... Hands firm, Hands' Form confirms
   Convulsions slow; Walls' Lines conform...
    are... You... am I... I... feared I'd die
     before I... held You one last Time...
      I... want... to say... I've come to see...
       That... You and I... We'll al...ways... be...
   

H/T @Joni

H/T @Joรฃo-Maria

36 thoughts on “Am, Are, or: Always”

        1. A little bit of Canadian for you. Itโ€™s definitely the only word we use here for a winter hat. Weird I guess. Weird like when we hear British people call a sweater a woolen jumper.

  1. Ohhhh the stutter and stammer is outrageous, on all fours, just one tear of convulsion that’s all, can’t follow and feel the spaces in between, one rip, one tear, no breath between the noun and the tear, the verb climbing walls, suffering physical and mental agony, religious doubt, no walls, contorted lines
    I am trying
    I am breathing
    I am getting there
    Slowly and surely
    With love in mind
    I am….always and forever
    Loving thee

      1. Oh David….what a beautiful title….you are so kind to me too….literary critic…..I pray I get it right…stepping into those shoes….I gaze at those stilettos….and dream

  2. Very soul touching, David. I read it slowly, thoughtfully. For I wanted to feel every word. There are alot of hidden emotions hidden in poetry. And I love to feel that. Be blessed โค๏ธ

    1. Thanks so much as always, Diana. I hadn’t considered it before you made your comment, but, actually, I think you’re right… this poem in particular reads better when it’s read with paced precision. ๐Ÿ’š

  3. An excellent piece again, David! Nouns swiftly Twisting into verbs. What a thought! Thanks!!

  4. David, a very ingenious and creative poem. โค I will not pretend that I fully understand it. I'll just share the images and the meaning it evoked for me.

    Every so often, someone drives off a bridge into a river or drives into a canal. That is the mental image I had while reading the first two verses. The last verse is about the miraculous escape or rescue. Suddenly, the love we share with the special people in our lives is brought into sharp focus by this near-death experience.

    1. Cheryl, that is a beautiful interpretation. The door lends itself to that imagery. The truth? I won’t pretend to fully understand it either ๐Ÿ˜‰

  5. Ah I took help of Cheryl’s comment to decipher this poem. Haha ngl, at first read I thought you were tripping and wrote about it ๐Ÿ˜‚ Fabulous work!

    1. I was sort of imagining someone who is at the end of his/her life and going in and out of consciousness before death… but I’m not married to any particular interpretation ๐Ÿ˜€

  6. Wow this is incredibly creative and taking the concept of walls without doors to a different level.
    I feel agony in this piece as lines are blurred and you canโ€™t reach the one you seek and love. Emotions coming and going with blurred senses. Extremely creative use of words which may not be meant to make the reader stop and feel but that is what it did for me. I wish I would have seen this earlier. Thank you for sending people to my site as well. Thank you again, I would have been very disappointed to have missed this piece. Loved the image you used also, perfect. โค๏ธ๐Ÿค— Love Joni

  7. Curious story, Ben, and few people know this, but Caliath is the name I’ve given to my notebooks over the years. Each of them is named Caliath. I no longer write in paper; I have not the time that the format requires, but I still name my documents Caliath X, XI, XII, so on. In one of the earliest, I once scribbled a line I’ve suddenly felt reminded of with your poem:
    “Reticence is a refuge from the inmost light.”; our time is waterborne in a sense and watergraved in another; fire is especially untimely. In quickness, our expression bursts and wanes, is tired quickly, is knee-held. But in time, oh, time, in that little dilatation of speech, oh, such godliness, such death. Such a tiresome impression.
    I’m happy to have inspired you. I’m glad inspiring is still within my realm of abilities. They seem to split quickly through me.

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