Okay, I'm In
by Darryl Price
I get what you want done from me. You want the old one two sucker punch that goes straightaway through to the tenderest part of the aching
heart, the one that tumbles you out of your old worn out gut wrenching way of living
life for the well and for the good. Well, let me tell you, you don't have to worry. It
will come to you like a bee sting to an innocent child's resting open
palm on a field of grass. And it will break your heart like
a cracker. It will consume you like nothing
else ever could or ever will again. Because something
burning this brightly can only last in the purest fields of
imagination for so long before it becomes a
kind of amnesia in and of itself.All
else that matters is wiped out of existence except for
that funny core feeling of losing one's central
bearing to a dream, no matter where one
is left standing. Is that what you want? Of
course it is. But the price is so very much higher than the empire state building.
Very. Very. Very High. High. High. It will take your whole heart's breath as in a single solitary scoop of ice cream
in a one-time only such heart struggling payment and leave you with just the one
square piece of cheesecloth draped over a bucket
of moon water. How will you keep it safe now
from constantly spilling wherever and whenever you have to go someplace else? How will you protect it from all
the other foul elements storming around out there in the windy hollows?How will you ever carry its heavy load
around with you for the rest of your weary
days alone without one day giving it all up for a moment's much deserved bit of rest and peace? I know I know I know. You still want
to give it a try. Just because it's
impossible doesn't mean it's impossible.That's what I
like about you young people. You don't believe
in history as being the last word, the
last world. Raise the flag then, because here we come. It's all of us or nothing.
Darryl Price 052810
Fog
I miss you in the pizza box
and in the paper plates.
I miss you in the silverware
that sits alone and waits.
I miss you in that flour moon
so spilled upon the gates.
I miss you in the stars tonight
that spell out hope and fates.
I miss you in the mirror round.
I miss our sheets unfurled.
I miss you in that Beatle sound
that used to save the world.
It is who I am, what I do.
I miss you as before
like rain that splatters through the peephole
and scatters on the floor.
Darryl Price 2003-2010
Fog
I miss you in the pizza box
and in the paper plates.
I miss you in the silverware
that sits alone and waits.
I miss you in that flour moon
so spilled upon the gates.
I miss you in the stars tonight
that spell out hope and fates.
I miss you in the mirror round.
I miss our sheets unfurled.
I miss you in that Beatle sound
that used to save the world.
It is who I am, what I do.
I miss you as before
like rain that splatters through the peephole
and scatters on the floor.
Darryl Price 2003-2010
Goodbye, Mrs. Lusby
Like an angel in my
memory, she's a shell
stuck in my sand, like
a foam horse rising
up to birds; I'll be
her mirror if I can.
Darryl Price 2004-2010
Goodbye It Means
This won't find you at home
before they do.
They'll buy you a
house for one pretty and shy smile.
Give you your own gardens
for one sweet recorded note.
Here I stand with nothing more than
my own paper heart.
How could you want
to taste their food?
Can you say you
enjoy their chairs?
This won't save you
before you fall.
They'll remember
all your birthdays.
You'll never know
what alone means
but I'm there now.
I'm there right now.
Darryl Price 2004-2010
Tell Me, How Am I supposed
to write you when all I've got
for words are broken pieces of stick? How
am I going to speak to just your heart alone
when every sound is churned
over in waves by more incoming waves? I've tried
sending you seabirds but they
only break up in the distance and become more thinning out clouds of
sky. I've placed one dream after
another inside a trapped wind's gasping throat
and gently tapped it on its weary
way only to find the sun
has eaten it down whole somewhere in the lonely hungry night. The wan
smile of the evening's satisfied goddess does
nothing to ease my worry that you
will never get my full message. The
fact that the message is you
does little to change the meaning
of this impossible quest set before me. I've written
your name between countless grains
of sand but your buried toes only
seem to want to provide no shade for that grand purpose. And now,
now another poem for
sweet countenance, one more star
shaped shell for your bell's shared heaven.
Darryl Price
over in waves by more incoming waves? I've tried
sending you seabirds but they
only break up in the distance and become more thinning out clouds of
sky. I've placed one dream after
another inside a trapped wind's gasping throat
and gently tapped it on its weary
way only to find the sun
has eaten it down whole somewhere in the lonely hungry night. The wan
smile of the evening's satisfied goddess does
nothing to ease my worry that you
will never get my full message. The
fact that the message is you
does little to change the meaning
of this impossible quest set before me. I've written
your name between countless grains
of sand but your buried toes only
seem to want to provide no shade for that grand purpose. And now,
now another poem for
sweet countenance, one more star
shaped shell for your bell's shared heaven.
Darryl Price
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Author's Note
To be young-at any age-is to believe in possibilities, to want to go on in spite of the overwhelming odds. This is the miracle of love-that it persists in being. The young-the young at heart included here of course-see the beauty hidden in the ugliest facts-smog,violence,greed,man's inhumanity to man- and because of this they know something good can come at any moment, too. Who's to say where it will come from? But some simply know its coming, is just one of an infinite amount of possibilities on the daily roster. And because of that one simple fact they choose to live, and this sets the bar for the rest of us. It's a welcomed sight at any height.
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wonderful images, like this
leave you with only a
short piece of cheesecloth draped over a bucket
of moon water.
Thanks G!
I agree with Gary - good imagery throughout, DP. My favorite:
"leave you with only a
short piece of cheesecloth draped over a bucket
of moon water. How will you keep it
from spilling?"
Darryl this is wonderful, one of my favorite ones of your work thus far that ive seen here. My fave line is also Sams fave. Just love that line.
My eyes flew down the page on this one. Like the others, love the cheesecloth image, but the title is what sucker punches me. Peace...
Fabulous, fabulous, and fabulouser. I agree that the best line in the piece is that cheese clothe and moon water. Darryl, this is one of your best. Love it!!!! Here we come!
The premise is great! Especially loved the opening stanza and the line everyone above has commented upon. I too love the title! Knowing all that might come, yes, definitely "Okay I'm in." Definite fav.
Once again, Darryl, a superb poem - the youth are so idealistic and then comes reality. Yes! I see what you were getting at. Loved it, fav
Excellent poem. Love the enjambing voice.
"Just because it's
impossible doesn't mean it's impossible.That's what I
like about you young people. You don't believe
in history as being the last word, the
last world."
Well done!
At the suggestion of a good friend I decided to make it all of one a prose poem. I hope you like it as much in its new incarnation. At any rate I am always honored by your presence here at the poetry gate and its always my honor to invite you in.Thanks for your comments.
I love this poem, Darryl, for its breadth of feeling, and for its generosity and compassion.
Lovely.
I got to this late - and I too, without reading the comments put this in my clipboard - "It will take your heart's breath
for payment and leave you with only a
short piece of cheesecloth draped over a bucket
of moon water. "
That's one helluva line in a helluva poem. Forever young, may we stay.
Great DP - one of your best.
All these rich images here, the energy, the life -- wonderful. Of course that one image stands out, but I also like the simplicity of
it will break your heart like
a cracker.
Mainly because it surprised me, made my heart skip a moment, go 'ouch'.
Also, this is probably stating the obvious, but this line says it all:
Just because it's
impossible doesn't mean it's impossible.
May we live that way, always.
Love this so very much, Darryl. Fav again.
Like everyone else, I loved the cheesecloth image too, but the poem has so much more to admire than just that.
Raise the flag - right!
these are gorgeous poems. i love the change on the first poem into this new prose poem form, it feels more solid and dramatic for its poem message (at least to me). Beautiful work, DP
I enjoyed all of these poems except for "Fog." Its well written, but I'm not a fan of poems that rhyme.
I like the line, "They'll buy you a house for one smile."
"Okay I'm In" - This had a rawness of voice in the beginning I loved, man. And I didn't miss it as you moved into some lighter shades of language later, the rich imagery, the slow and timed reveal at the core of the poem this generational texture and lasting bravado. And the structure had this rush, rush, rush feel. Perfect I think for this piece.
"Fog" - Love this, especially:
"I miss you in that Beatle sound/that used to save the world."
And great use of images and rhythm in line in closing:
"I miss you as before/like rain that splatters the peephole/
and scatters 'cross the floor."
"Goodbye, Mrs. Lusby" - A richness that belies such economy here and builds on the previous pieces. I think it just right for a short interlude here in the middle of these poems. Not too much and still says volume.
"Goodbye It Means" - I'm a sucker for well-balanced melancholy and this one was pleasing to my own darkness and sadness. "...paper heart..." is one of the most striking modifier/noun combos I've read in some time. Pardon my crudeness, but it's the difference, as Pynchon said, in saying he "wiped his ass with a handful of grass" and saying "he wiped his ass with a handful of clovers."
"Tell Me How and I supposed" - This closes the batch of poems nicely, shows how there can be that connection throughout, but, and I think this is just a personal think, maybe, but the beach as a setting has always diverted my attention from the blood of a poem or story. We are always so tempted to bring in all the wonders there at the edge of the world, the grains fo sand, the shells, the notion of a message on the waves. I'm not saying it doesn't work (because here again you've knocked me flat with "your bell heaven") but this one might become stronger by standing more ashore, so to speak, while still retaining that magic of land and water and here now and gone again tide.
Thanks for these, Darryl. You always put so much thought into your work and remain so consistently productive. Work like that is always inspiring to read.
Shel--Thanks..that was a deep and thorough reading of the work presented here. Something like a gift from you. I hope you have received a gift also from those five poems like the ones you so generously gave me. Thanks for giving so much care to your answering comments.You are one of the people in the world I want my poems to matter to. It's all very much appreciated by me. Your poet pal, Darryl P.
I suppose I am unabashedly and unashamedly binge reading your poems this morning, Darryl. Their gentleness and eloquence is something needed today, must be. Love this set--my favorite lines: "now another poem for /
sweet countenance, one more star /
shaped shell for your bell heaven."
*sigh* *sigh sigh* Faving. :) H