The Sun Is Not
by Darryl Price
to die. That's only
them daring you to
disbelieve in your own love.
Then they'll blame you(of course).
You're not the only
personage on my mind right now
but you're always stuck right inside
there. Now there's this
sweetest (barely audible) singing I hear
from the freshly fallen snow
I'm somehow made more aware of,
slowly shifting onto the
minutes of this writ
as I chip away
the ice walls with my hands. Hey I
thought I remembered something really
cool about the left
corner of your eyelid the other day
but now I can't
think exactly what that
was. Well I'd laugh
but there are no
more breaths for it
on frozen tundra. Sometimes
life feels like a
lost ball waiting in
the grass for the
next kicker to stroll
by. Oh but I
still feel those thin
raggedy winds--even crouching
down inside my crowded
room as I am--as they march
over the stacked and
folded lands outside like
some grist of ghostly
tears.And I've somehow
misplaced all those collected
sentences I was saving
up just for your never return.
I hope you'll
forgive me. They're probably
best left out there
to the elements anyway, buried
in plain sight,
dropped, unspoken, unwritten, slipped
off like a small
stack of bricabrac beads
from a reddish fraying line.
D.P. 12/27/09
thinking of doing something
else besides quietly sloshing
around but can't quite manage
it. And I can't find the proper
words I know so believe me for something
right now. Honestly the only
thing speaking directly
to me here is that softly
curled pink cloud already submerging
its dreamy shoulders
into the blue black depths of
coming night like a lazy
swimmer who only wants to
float around for awhile. I
still wish I could close my eyes
and join her there but that would
be somehow false. So much true
beauty tortures a man into
believing things he cannot
see. And just like that everything
changes into whatever
this is. The cloud has become
a dark dolphin. What's left
of the sun goes gliding all
over the surface like cream.
D.P. 02/25/09
The Moon at Sunset
My anger's lit like
a candle dripping hot wax
down my neck. My love
lies with a smile that
is nothing but sugar.
My anger is wearing a
great black costume that
seems more at home in
the darkest corners
of abandoned barns
than on any street I know of.
My love is pure joy
in your presence as
if angels dropped by
the house for drinks and
conversation. My
anger bites every
noise, happy or sad.
My love forgives the
punch in the heart you
bring for merely asking
the question. My
anger turns it on.
My love turns it down.
My anger runs. My
love sprints. My anger
points. But love holds on.
My anger rips the
pages on purpose.
Love tapes the picture back together
no matter the many
missing pieces.
My anger swims away
and sulks. My love
invites everyone
to the table. My
anger spills whatever
takes the longest
time to regather.
My love volunteers.
My anger thinks it's
funny. But love laughs
too. My anger calls
the universe by an
ugly name. My love
believes there's always
the chance. My anger
squeezes the juice. While
love is like a whole
plate of spinning stars.
D.P. 09/12/09
Sometimes I forget
how strange the world is. I'm not so worried
about following your rules. I'm much more
interested in being real. I've never believed
in their definitions of beauty. Yet I've already
seen many miraculous things on just
about every surface. I figure it's some kind of minute
mojo being more cosmic patterns upon another wall
somewhere. It's all made out of the same stuff.
But even that's not the whole truth. In
order to get there we'd have to go everywhere
at once. And yet we dance! I don't have to
give you this poem any more than you have to
read it. The sun will burn out when the sun
will burn out. Until then you have to
continue to climb out of yourself
into the open air so to speak. The story simply
unfolds around you a million times a second like
a pretty difficult puzzle but is it fun or can it be?
And still we kill each other. That's
the really sad part. We don't even
know any other way. Oh sure there are many here
among us who refuse the fight but they end up dying any way. There's a point to all these words but
you're crazy if you think it's up to me to tell
you what they mean. I'm not that voice but I hear
it too. It's coming out of every rock, every drop
of rain,every flower, every particle of air, every
stitch of clothing, every cell of skin, every bead upon our
silly heads. We take it all way too seriously. Nothing's ever
going to stop the gate from closing in on us but we could
have a picnic among the rising stones and later
count as many stars as there are souls of beings.
d.p. 2009
The Horse-Shaped Hole
stands softly in moon-wash nibbling on tufts at
the top of sleeping
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Author's Note
The future belongs to those who give the next generation reason for hope. (Pierre Teilhard de Chardin)
The Sky Here's Full Stopped first appeared in Istanbul Literary Review thanks to Susan Tepper.
Looks Like the Sea is Always first appeared in Prick of the Spindle thanks to Cynthia Reeser.
Other stories by Darryl Price
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winter poem, with images built to last, like
life feels like a
lost ball waiting in
the grass for the
next kicker to stroll
by.
and i swear i feel those thin ragged winds
down here in atlanta, where i await the tired sun, who appears to be dozing.
You're a good man, Charlie Brown. Thanks for taking the time. It's always a pleasure, my friend.
"Well I'd laugh
but there are no
more breaths for it..."
One of my favorite tropes in a snowy and somehow frozen and spare poem, a work that speaks to us plainly. A few lines on the white. Reminds me of a woodcut or Rembrandt's Winter Day etching.
a wonderful poem, d.p., that speaks to me on many levels-the writer ('misplaced collected sentences'), traveler (to russia, once), son ('left corner of your eyelid' of my mother), rebel ('them wanting you to disbelieve your own love./Then they'll blame you.'). your lines are x-rays. thanks for writing/posting this!
Thanks James and Finnegan. It's so hard to keep these things on track as they can so easily jump off and wander away. I'm always worried that I should shorten my poems or go for more bang per brevity, but then I hear from one of you and I think maybe I should just slog on in spite of the odds for getting it right.Thanks.
"Well I'd laugh
but there are no
more breaths for it
on frozen tundra."
"And I've somehow
misplaced all those collected
sentences I was saving
up just for you."
Just echoing an appreciation of these lines in particular.
Thanks!
d.p., if you're slogging then i don't know what i'm doing...getting through the slag to the soul takes space. and you're doing it, matey.
What a great poem, D.P. I'm with Carol with the above lines. I also love, "You're not the only
personage on my mind
but you're always there." And, "Hey I
thought I remembered something
cool about the left
corner of your eyelid
but now I can't
think exactly what it
was."
Sweet & dreamy.
Great form, DP. Enjoyed reading this piece - have been without a computer for two weeks. Just checking in.
I like how the lyrical and the metaphysical meet in this poem. The voice is that of both a romantic and a philosopher.
beautiful. and no, don't shorten this. this flow of thoughts needs the space. it's like going out on a thought walk.
Love that first line.
Many beautiful lines here, but this is the one that got to me: "You're not the only
personage on my mind
but you're always right
there. Now there's this
sweetest barely audible singing
to the falling snow"
yes, dp is the house romantic, and his voice makes fictionate a happier place, always welcome--
Well, it's all here in this one gorgeous, wrenching poem: a rallying cry to remember who we REALLY are, acceptance, inevitability, and a reminder to hold on, for god's sake.
Loved this, Darryl. On this cold, icy, snowy day, this poem warms me through and through. Thank you, poet pal.
"And I've somehow
misplaced all those collected
sentences I was saving up just for you."
I'd say those sentences were never lost.
D'Arcy--I do believe my snowman's heart is beginning to melt. I can't thank you enough. Those words mean the world to me.Thank you, you've given me hope that my work is not in vain.
Really beautiful to read. I like listening to thoughts of narrator. So much feeling in these lines.
these are wonderful, D.P. thank you for writing them
Images of sun and ice together: powerful. Redefining masculine sun as feminine is jarring, in a good way.
There's a sort of languidness to these, a sort of dogged, real emotion that accumulates. Very affecting.
Darryl, thanks for reminding us of how the snow sings softly if only we listen hard enough. Your poems somehow always manage to transmit these tiny wonderful signals and signs for things we mustn’t forget to pay attention to in the world.
Sometimes
life feels like a
lost ball waiting in
the grass for the
next kicker to stroll
by.
This line (among others) is pure power and the truth of it is a real punch. And before I forget: loved the title.
Life sometimes feels like a lost ball - waiting for the next kicker - death
Hi, D.P. (how smart you are to use initials--may I steal this idea? life is getting too complex). Thank you for saying hi to me and thus introducing me to your poetry.
I love what is said when the title of your poem meets with the first lines "the sun is not an old lady waiting to die"--i feel this is a poem in itself.
Beautamous. Every stanza sweet, but this especially for me
life feels like a
lost ball waiting in
the grass for the
next kicker to stroll
by. Oh but I
The tedium of futile anticipation... Peace, Linda
The imagery in your poems simply blows me away! After reading the poems on this page, I can only sit back in wonder at such amazing talent.
Thank you for bringing such joy through your delicious verses,such as "angels drop by the house for drinks and conversation." Wow!
I find it hard to comment when there are so many different pieces and I like them all, but the flavor of each is so different. So many stunning lines, so many dancing thoughts.
Thanks Beate. I do that on purpose. Because I don't want people to think that poetry is one way or the other. It's wide open. And lots of fun. And is as deep or as wide as you wish to go.Thanks for taking the time to read and comment. Much appreciated.