leonardcohenforum.com

Adultery


"Yet listen well. Not to my words -
but to the tumult which rises in your body
when you listen to yourself." - Anon.

Home of my eroded roads, I had chosen you -
was used to briar-scratch, and risk
of fallen trees, lives struck to their knees -
I knew not to disturb, defer, please step inside
but made my way beneath, and felt ashamed
beside the parched and gaping mouth of ditch -
emptied, starved with thirst, resembling me.

What I wanted was the love
within a grain of sand, the dying branch,
the hand of God emerging from withered leaves
or stones which creeks once cradled, soothed.
And now, you - music I hear through carcasses
of trees, the peck and howl, the voice
inside the grain, the only shoot of green
in beds of seared wheat -
you, sweet meal, asked for plucking,
as I knelt then, and would still kneel
to drink of you.

But God's hand is nowhere.
Only you, your palms, your fingers, clutching
at something you cannot name,
define, honor or cherish.
I am what you keep - a seedling,
or the last crust of bread coveted -
as if it could rise towards what might have been.

- Hillary Hays, 1994

Your images and your vision, Hillary, transport to the core of the issues. Each poem uniquely its own. Your life so boldly shared. Thank you for these brief, yet intense, journeys down under and through it all. I see your heartbreak. I see your struggle. I see your acceptance. Thank you for sharing you. You are blessed in your writing.

Love,
Elizabeth

HH,

this works for me! I wondered how I would get on with your style, having sneaked just the quickest glimpses so far. I knew immediately it was not a manner of writing that I would naturally be able to produce. Well, I relaxed into your poem, I was aware that you were speaking with quite a heavy voice. I do not mean laboured but authoritative or heart-felt. No line by line crit this time but a repeat that I really like this!

and remember the rule of this forum, one decent newcomer outweighs 10 Baby Trolls, so I am loads "in profit" with your arrival,

regards

critic2

Thanks again, C2, what can I say, I'm getting trite here. I don't know where this poem came from. It was written for an alcoholism counselor who decided to pursue me a few years after I'd left his treatment. Steamy, eh? It seemed so at the time. But that was then...

I'm glad I'm worth my weight in this lovely forum and that I'm not classified as a troll (just yet?) I've always preferred to think of myself as an elf ~ I have pointy ears, you know, elfish or vulcan or some such. Or perhaps my simple mind is missing the relevance of the troll reference??

Thanks again for your comments,
Hillary

Medusafern wrote:
I'm glad I'm worth my weight in this lovely forum and that I'm not classified as a troll (just yet?) . Or perhaps my simple mind is missing the relevance of the troll reference??

Thanks again for your comments,
Hillary

Hillary, it's the Internationally accepted rate of exchange. One new Good Poet easily outweighs 10 useless Baby Trolls. It is their contractual duty to entertain me but they fail even in that simple task, so now they live in a shared trash-can where they can only play with themselves.

Ha! Ha! Critic2 just can't stop himself He's obsessed. paints nailed him with his repetitious comments.