Clumsy

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He was clay potato
in raspberry field
exposed, clumsy
between delicate gossip
     He turned his back
     fingers in fissures 
     abyss separating life
     from living
                       Hand with deep furrows 
                       built huge walls
                       rough rock
                       like he was
                Alone in one dream
                slalom, downhill
                white blindness
                stone
                held high above his head
                                    as a white feather
                                    against evening sky
                                    a bird from his hands
                                    light brightness
                                    A wish, unfulfilled

***

September 21, 2017
Copyright © Darren White

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Pat Adams

Date: 10/8/2017 3:05:00 PM

This is really amazing, a Fav for me. "Separates life from living" not only so hard to do, especially at an early age, but hard to realize the need to do! I'll read this one over and over again, I'm sure. Thanks for sharing!!

Darren White
Date: 10/9/2017 3:03:00 AM

Pat, thank you very much for the compliment :)

Freddie Robinson Jr.

Date: 10/5/2017 12:55:00 PM

Wow! I agree w/the other poetesses/poets, Darren. This is one mighty fine poem ... it's so expressive and subtle. Great cerebral depth and sensitivity. Just a magnificent poem, my friend. Love and peace forever.

Darren White
Date: 10/9/2017 3:03:00 AM

Thank Freddie my friend :)

Darlene De Beaulieu

Date: 9/27/2017 9:15:00 AM

I enjoyed your poetry. I look at the photo and I see different shapes everywhere I look. Have a nice day my friend.

Darren White
Date: 9/28/2017 8:37:00 AM

Thank you so much Darlene :)

Arthur Vaso

Date: 9/25/2017 12:22:00 PM

Another beautiful heartfelt poem, I know some would look at the photo and see ugly, I looked at it and saw beauty, Id rather clumsy and sincere any day!!! Oh and my flowers are magical, they always grow higher than any wall they are beside!!

Darren White
Date: 9/25/2017 12:27:00 PM

Thanks my friend. One day I come over to see the flowers :)

Patricia Cresswell

Date: 9/21/2017 1:27:00 PM

The soft colours in the stone belies its hard make up. Beauty in rugged nature. Everything is a compilation of contrasts. What happens where they meet? What is his wish it is sad almost forsaken. Too well written Darren.

Darren White
Date: 9/22/2017 12:29:00 AM

That is so very well analyzed Patricia, thank you!

Lin Lane

Date: 9/21/2017 11:08:00 AM

Your contrasts between roughness and softness did not go unnoticed. It's the holding on that matters. . . still able to fulfill. The depth of pain falls into that abyss, Darren.

Darren White
Date: 9/22/2017 12:27:00 AM

It does, Lin. Exactly that, thank you for noticing.