Flotsam

“A brave vessel,
Who had no doubt some noble creature in her,
Dash’d all to pieces”  Miranda




Next, I was buried
deep under water
dark and grey

and I sank darkly, a leaden weight gripped,
dragged down by an ankle

I felt the night
part and fold back
over my head

and my ears rang with the tympanic surge
yet death would not come.

I held out my hand
for you, and your clasp
was all that kept me here

your hand, until I begged you for release,
to leave me with the flotsam.




Published at Visual Verse, Volume 4, Chapter 12
Posted to Camera FLASH!


Comments

  1. Well that was visual! I can imagine that floating, drifting feeling would be tempting so to put all worldly troubles out of one's mine even if the hand of one you knew was there.

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  2. I just saw a production of "The Tempest," Kerry. The graceful words here bring me back to that experience, only with a view from the other side of the sea change. An interesting transformation of the image in itself.
    Steve K.

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  3. The failure to part make this a double tragedy. I can almost feel to be burdened by another person's compassion. Drowning is not an end but a beginning.

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  4. The emotions in this poem are so incredibly tangible .. especially this; "and my ears rang with the tympanic surge yet death would not come" is deep and powerful!

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  5. I love this in ten ways, among them the intertextuality with Shakespeare's drama, the maiden's vitality in the surge, the bittersweet reflection back on a time and place and certain immersion which many of us are fortunate or damned or both to find ourselves shipwrecked by. Anyway, this rough magic is sure vital stuff.

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  6. Vivid and poignant. I like the flow of words. :)

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  7. I love how this links to The Tempest. these words are so graceful and yet, so very sad.

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  8. I'm so pleased you've continued with The Tempest theme, Kerry, and I love how you've conveyed the pull of the sea (and grief) in the lines:
    '...I sank darkly, a leaden weight gripped,
    dragged down by an ankle'.
    I also love the way you describe the night parting and folding back, and ears ringing 'with the tympanic surge'. The imagery is vivid and the ending truly sad.

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  9. Such a depth here.In my ignorance I did not connect Miranda with the Tempest or with Will himself having feared so far to venture into such tomes. In some ways perhaps it helps in that I read this as fresh. The ending for me has a potency that wraps the whole piece up so well.

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  10. I find myself feeling a sense of drowning with all that is happening in the world. My hand reaches into the past, my eyes to the future, an ocean of current trying to take both from me. Your poem although steeped in tragic is beautiful

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  11. What I admire most of this piece is how the tone evolves from the dark/tragic to something rather fierce in that last walloping line. The lines are gorgeous and edited down to perfection. No word is overwrought or misplaced. Superb in it's succinctness.

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  12. I felt the night
    part and fold back
    over my head

    Such a vivid image.

    Makes me thing of Virginia Wolf, filling her pockets with rocks and walking into the river's depths.

    namaste
    JzB

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  13. I held out my hand
    for you, and your clasp
    was all that kept me here

    They power that binds simply called 'love'!

    Hank

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  14. correction - the power that binds....

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  15. Kerry! Love this. Of course. I thought of Virginia Woolf too.
    Also, I am so happy that you are here. What is this Visual Verse? What are you doing over there, all sneaky-like? Seems to me that you've been more inspired to write since you said goodbye to all that. I am going to try to be inspired by you and kick myself in gear, we'll see.

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