Triny Xiang Poet Free verse

The language of poetry has left me

When the river of poetry has dried
Like parched clouds waiting for warmth
When the rain beats down on emptiness 
The god of rain demands to be penned

I pour myself a glass of wet wine
An offering to Bacchus to entreat
My muse, but she ain’t listening 
Her torrent of words fall on deaf ears

I light two cigarettes as an offering
My sooty lungs are a poor sacrifice
Still my muse refuses to talk sense
The god of ash will not spill beans

Poetry has dried, but I am faithful
I’ll cup my hand in the pouring rain
I’ll bind dissonant words like cold fusion
Marry consonants and vowels online

Anything to rise above the mundane
I offer sooty words to show I’m here
Do poets online get drenched like me
Stumbling in the rain posting virtually?

My eucharist is dipped in whine now  
Comments become sacramental breads
Poetry is a vice best felt in the rain
Washed clean by constant wringing

So I’ve made a poem out of rain
Turned water to prose like Jesus
I’m on Golgotha with Him every day
Extolling in the driving storm

Both of us bleeding or crying
Eli eli lama sabachthani?
God, my gods why have you 
You abandoned me?

You must know it's just a cross
It's me counting rain drops
When the parched clouds part
Let the sunshine be though hard

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Shane Thacker February 17, 2024 at 11:15 AM This entire poem is incredible, but the lines "So I’ve made a poem out of rain Turned water to prose like Jesus" are some of the best lines I've ever read in a poem. Very creative! Wonderfully written, Triny.

Hiya Sharma January 29, 2024 at 11:00 PM Oh wow, this is such an evocative and heartfelt poem that dives in the emotions when one begins feeling if their light has abandoned them and the rays of healing are no longer proving cathartic.. Your words made me feel immense depth and I could resonate in some ways too. The use of metaphors and imagery is absolutely sublime.. "Her torrent of words fall on deaf ears", "I offer sooty words to show I’m here" Ahh, so poignant and intricately crafted.. Sending best wishes and light to you...

Silent One January 22, 2024 at 12:45 PM I dont think it has dried in this poem.. This poem beautifully captures the essence of a poet grappling with the absence of inspiration, using evocative imagery and metaphors to convey the struggle to summon creativity. The opening lines, "When the river of poetry has dried, like parched clouds waiting for warmth," immediately draw the reader into a sense of longing and anticipation.. Triny Xiang January 22, 2024 at 10:38 PM Dear Silent One, your response is like poetry itself. You've illuminated what I've hidden in poor poetry. I am humbled by your excavation. Thank you.