These long hours
without you
I count on the stars–
they are as endless,
distant,
finally cold.
I have shuttered
the dawn
and become
an astronomer–
keeping company
with stars,
listening
to their anguished
conversations
in crackles, static,
silence, end
transmission–
light waves
vanished.
I understand
them,
burning against
an infinite cold
distant
emptiness,
the long endless
hours then gone.
8 comments:
I liked a few things in this a lot, but I also had a little trouble with a couple of things.
This I liked:
"...I count on the stars - they are as endless..."
I know you're not saying "count the stars" but the close relationship between "count" and "endless" is a nice dichotomy. Actually, it's almost mathematical since numbers (and stars) are of course endless to us with our limited scientific knowledge.
"I have shuttered the dawn and become an astronomer..."
Would it be a little smoother if it read, "I shuttered the dawn and became an astronomer"?
Thanks for the piece. :)
Okay, this one was bugging me so I tinkered a bit. I think it reads smother now. And I did was "become and astronomer", don't know why exactly, but I like it. :) Thanks for the comments Thea. Anybody else?
You count hours on stars? Is that where they're made, or is it that during the hours, you count on the stars? If so, what do you count on them for? The point is, It's a nice jumble of words, but it's really difficult to make out which of several possible meanings you intend, and while I'm at it, what are they as "endless, distant, and cold" AS, as "you" or as "hours" or did we miss the rest?
Anguished stars is a new idea, but your use of the sounds that are picked up from the stars to support the image establishes it well.
The third stanza seems just a bit abrupt. I'm not ignoring the fact that it may be abrupt purposefully to mimic the sudden end, but it does leave me feeling suddenly dropped.
Overall, my thoughts of this poem is that it is fine, but too similar to many of your others and really has nothing unique to add.
This is very similar to a lot of your other poems (at least the ones I read before I stopped writing for a spell), and I'm wondering if it might help you to move away from the astronomical/night sky metaphors and themes. I do like the the double meaning of "count on stars"--the hours being as many as there are stars and the stars being as cold as the subject. In the second stanza, I would find another word for stars.
sam is right, I know you love stars, but maybe it will help make things more alive if you had a change of theme. Of course you love the stars but a little change never hurt anyone.
Thanks for the poem.
hey PB, its poetry day! but really, i remember you having a star theme in your poetry and i appreciate how far you can take it. i disagree with the others--if you can get all of these images and ideas, each of them unique and real and fitting, from one overall concept, i think you should go for it! i liked the connection, both at the beginning and at the end, between stars and hours and coldness...usually i have seen stars equated with heat in writing, and i liked this different take on it. i did, though, agree with one comment--i would substitute "stars" in the last stanza with "them". that way it would make it more ambiguous as to whether you are talking about stars or hours. or not, your call.
Thanks for the comment, LO. Wow, you have been busy on the poetry site! Careful, you may find that poetry is seduction and then you'll abandon prose. :)
I agree about changing stars to them in the last stanza. Good idea. Much obliged!
Ok, nothing like a little poetry when home alone on a Friday night.
I caught some of the comments on this on so I had to take a look.
Maybe I look at things a little differently as I don’t see much of your poetry having a star theme or being about stars…this one certainly isn’t. A comment made me go back and read through it again (I think it was Roust) and no, this isn’t about stars. Honestly PB not much of your work does strike me as repetitive or having a star theme….sorry, I don’t see it. I do see life, relationships, conflict,…its all there.
Since I’ve known you I now have a small (ok, very small) collection of poetry on the book shelf. This is simplistic I know, but I judge a good poem by when reading do I feel like I’ve been kicked? Do I suck in a deep breath and read it again, and again? This is poetry to me; good poetry. You my friend write good poetry.
Don’t change a thing.
- Steve
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