He is North,
long, far up and cold
She, South,
sultry, sanguine and bold
the terrain is rough
none dare enter
He, tossing a
dime
and wishing for adventure
Bored, recalcitrant even spiteful
Life has handed him jokers
and many other causes-
Lost. Unmindful of his hurt
His need. His lonely longing.
He seeks a sweet spot
on the chart, a direction
to follow his heart -
but he is surrounded by mind maps
drawn in the sand
Atlas has shrugged him off
there is nowhere to take a stand
or grasp -
that upper hand.
28 Nov. '11
Comments
oh wow.
layer on layer.
Biography or condemnation?
Empathy or entropy?
The poor bastard, I relate to him.
But wish to know more about her.
In verse 3 the line
and many other causes-
feels a bit weak, also unclear causes to uphold or causes 'excuses'?
I also worry about any reference to that stupid, psycho right-wing anarchist bitch Ayn Rand, but I don't think that was the Atlas Shrugged you referred to, was it? Him making more victim excuses?
I like this poem, fairly loose rhyme and meter structure, and that it made me think and wonder.
and that last line stands beautifully, 'ware the seeker of the upper hand.
Jeez Elf!
how sweet your critique is! This was dedicated to someone I know and just flowed from my pen. Re-reading it, plus the lack of comments, made me concerned that it was missing the mark, although it obviously made sense to me! ;)
I appreciate you picking up the ambiguity around " causes". I just assumed it implied "lost causes". but I'll take another look at it. And no! I wasn't referring to Anne Rynd so you're safe!
Thanks again!
Boni
Ps. Title comes from a book by Arundhati Roy who also wrote "GOD OF LITTLE THINGS"