Blank verse in iambic pentameter
My sky is dark with black stars; together, congealing into thick syrup, even as I spread my arms; distributed as sick party favors, mementos of... need; perhaps, perhaps, preferable to my own; their deafening silence clotting my ears, coursing through twisted creases, pooling in my eyes, heavy, streaming down my cheeks, weighing me down, collapsing, moaning, to my knees, my hands clenching, begging for words, cutting, digging, biting words, to somehow pierce through the silence I've come to desire.
Let’s write poetry together!
When it comes to partnership, some humans can make their lives alone – it’s possible. But creatively, it’s more like painting: you can’t just use the same colours in every painting. It’s just not an option. You can’t take the same photograph every time and live with art forms with no differences.–Ben Harper (b. 1969)
Would you like to create poetry with me and have a completed poem of yours featured here at the Skeptic’s Kaddish? I am very excited to have launched the ‘Poetry Partners’ initiative and am looking forward to meeting and creating with you… Check it out!
32 thoughts on “Clap on, or: Clap off”
a poem i can feel deeply David.
❤ thanks, Paul! ❤
“congealing into thick syrup”
This left me spellbound. What a piece of art you’ve conjured! 😀
❤ Thanks, Veera ❤
this poem is full of tension accelerating apace then culminating in those remarkable last lines
🙏 Laura 🙏