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A Dazzling Form



For years I was consumed with desperate songs

incomplete, unfocused, and lacking in art.

Doubtful of vision, I merely carried along

a litany of obsessions fostered in a frosty heart.

I offered every line possible in hopes it would change

the complexion of our affairs, it had no effect.

I attempt now to sing in a different way so it may engage

your experience in a different manner than you’d expect.


To bring the full force of my abilities to bear was a task

I could not manage for reasons I cannot explain.

Searching for resolution, I was unable to bask

in either balanced judgements, or controllable pain.

Yes, I did love her, but I was never able to admit

that I needed her in such a way it’d never be enough.

For years I struggled against myself, refusing to submit

to any greater good or a more sensible bluff.


This song is, at best, unclear, my images are too obscure

for you to find any sort of lesson here for yourself.

It’s best I keep my goals limited and learn to endure

without the kindness of strangers or benefit of another’s help.

If you search you will find me slaving at my place of pages

where my blood gathers in anticipation of the coming storm.

As always, this drama played out on multiple stages

where my hands attempts to shape a dazzling form.

Hi J ~

I like the way your first verse describes what seems typical of many, young songwriters, who feel they have something to say, but just aren't sure, yet, what. Still they blunder on, hoping the song will be the cure, as well. "Searching for resolution, I was unable to bask in either balanced judgements, or controllable pain." I wonder if, now, you write your songs in the surprizing, unpredictable fashion that you write your poems.

You describe co-dependency really well. I like how this poem, in many ways, seems to be a clarifying one written to and for yourself, as well.

~ Lizzy

If when you use the word "songs" you are referring to the traditional definition of the word (i.e. a musical song), then I have never written a song in my life. Undoubtedly, some of my works would lend themselves well to a musical setting (or so I've been told). Besides, I'm not sure a lot of the time if I even write poetry, but that is neither here nor there.

Some of the works I post, this one included, are quite old. I have an enormous backlog of work, and have pursued publication only a couple of times in small magazines. The abiding characterisic of my older work to me is the fact that it is often unfocused, and sprawling all over the place, too frequently in love with the sound of language rather than concrete, tightly focused poetic statements and imagery. A more recent example of my work would be something like "In Memoriam". Unfortunately, I tend to write a lot of elegies these days... and much more prose, which I consider to be my greatest strength as a writer.

Jesus, what a calling I've chosen for myself. I should have been anything else other than this. At least in most "callings", achievement is something much more concrete, and tangible.

Oh, yes, J, you're right.....it did sound to me as though you were making a distinction between song [literal] and poem [literal]. As a conversation can be a "song of love," I now understand your meaning. It seems you've described that process typical of many writers. Gotta begin somewhere. The sprawling is natural, and even suggested by those "telling" others "how" to write.....the "keep your hand moving" theory. The premise being that that's how the subconscious and other levels of our being are finally accessed. They eventually come through that open door to express themselves. Of course, your initial 'unfocused ramblings' aren't literally like that, but very similar. It seems it's all a process that the sincere ones [or at least the not-so-easily-dissuaded ones] will make it through, and once on the other side, realize that they really do know how to write . I know there are things other than elegies that you would prefer to be writing. I wish I had a backlog of poetry.....however, I do have a backlog of rambling .