Sunday, 27 May 2012

discontent

House At Dusk, 1935, Edward Hopper
it is all a blur
the words, 
did you scrape with a flinty tool
I wrote on the walls with a chalk
somewhat rough
in the burnished interior
austere measures do nothing
my discontent is drenched with your brittle talk
I will hide in the barnacles
it will nicely cocoon me
shadows will hover in the periphery
I will pick some
take those to the forest
I will merge into the trees

in that house, without shadows
you will live alone
"didn't you choose that for yourself,
why are you discontent now? like me."

30 comments:

  1. Amazing! Your wording is beautiful. I love how everyone sees the pic so differently!

    Crazy,poetic life ~ Dana

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  2. Excellent use of the words. Your opening is strong. I also like hiding in the barnacles...it's an interesting image.

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  3. Hiding in the barnacles - strong image of using sharp and brittle things to protect ourselves. Something too many of us do, I suspect.

    Well wordled.

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  4. I suppose we get the life we draw to us, either good, or bad. It does seem as if someone living in a house that big, all alone, would not be at all happy. I know I wouldn't.
    great use of the words and, I too loved how you made us of hiding in the barnacles. Very original.

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  5. This is truly lovely ...

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  6. Awesome read. I think many of us saw darkness in this painting.

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  7. This is like lemons to me. Really sour but useful nonetheless. Can be taken and changed when you add something more. Love would be salt or sugar here. I prefer salt on lemons to sugar actually and lemon juice and salt are my salad dressing, making love to the greens. When I was a child, I would salt and suck a lemon half. I think your poem, you add love to the discontent and get a livable life.

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  8. I really love the morphing imagery in your poem. Hiding in the barnacles and picking shadows to take to the forest were my favorites. Thank you for sharing this expressive poem, Gautami.

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  9. Incredibly fine take on these prompts!

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  10. I love your poem... you made such wonderful images from the wordle prompt. Thank you for visiting my blog.

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  11. The picture really does suggest a gloomy discontented side of life doesn’t it. And brittle talk? Something we should all be aware of I suspect.

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  12. I actually saw this a hopeful poem... a hiding from the brittleness and a taking away to the trees a sense of beauty safe from the gloom and brittleness.. but perhaps that was just my own projection.

    Your poetry is always drenched in imagery and an exquisite command of language. A pleasure as always. thank you :)

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  13. Beautifully atmospheric and poignant.

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  14. Excellent poem, yes, I too suggest discontent.

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  15. Wow. You have a way with words. Excellent poem. :)

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  16. shadows will hover in the periphery
    I will pick some

    Lovely thought...

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  17. why did you choose to live alone? it is a choice and the motives are def worth exploring...

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  18. great images in this poem...picking shadows, hiding in the barnacles. Very nicely done!

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  19. Lovely images, great wordling!

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  20. Strangely hypnotic merging of subject and object , Gautami , thanks

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  21. Truly strong writing, Gautami.

    Pamela

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  22. Been a while, but am glad to be back. Also glad to be reading your words again. You have drawn a clear portrait, able to be easily seen in such a place, living alone.

    Elizabeth
    http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/

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  23. Well done! I loved: "my discontent is drenched with your brittle talk" and "hiding in the barnacles."

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  24. Delicious dark cold textures here...love it!

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  25. Quite simply, gob-smacking!

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  26. Kudos to the multiple prompts with one well wordled verse! I'm not sure where the photo came from but I can imagine it in any city where one thinks the distance is too great for anyone else to see in, and yet we get that small glimpse and wonder...
    My offering is here:
    http://julesgemsandstuff.blogspot.com/2012/05/lasting-last-laughs-sunday-whirl-58.html

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  27. I hope you will pick me . Discontent is such a mild, but apt title for this hugely angry poem of abuse. It houses the anger. I hope you won't house anything next time.

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