Abyss
The world is an ocean
Rising and falling
Glowing and fading
From moonlight to day
Ungraspable motion
The currents are stalling
As we go wading
Across the blue bay.
The clouds now are shuttered
Upon the long daylight
The tides they'll be lifting
As midnight comes near
The beaches are cluttered
With signs of the seas might
And black water's breaking
Above the old pier.
No man can weather
Earth's changing faces
No heart can fathom
The depths of the mind
No strength can tether
The night's lonely spaces
Love's the lost anthem
In the abyss of time.
yelena
ahhh where is the bookmark button? :))
ahhh where is the bookmark button? :))
Pendemic
Yet another satisfying journey guided by your awesome ability. It feels good to come back and read such works as this. Would bookmark if I could!
Yet another satisfying journey guided by your awesome ability. It feels good to come back and read such works as this. Would bookmark if I could!
Chaos1214
Love is certainly treated as the "redheaded step-child" of modern life. An ethereal composition.
Love is certainly treated as the "redheaded step-child" of modern life. An ethereal composition.
Kevin Wells
Lovely Patti. Eloquent and well wriiten as always
Lovely Patti. Eloquent and well wriiten as always
patspoems
Absolutely amazing. Loved it very much. Bookmarked..... Pat
Absolutely amazing. Loved it very much. Bookmarked..... Pat
Patrick McFarland
"Brilliant" doesn't come close to describing how good this is Patti. An amazing write!
"Brilliant" doesn't come close to describing how good this is Patti. An amazing write!
Fay Slimm
Strikes home Patti - - hauntingly good.
Strikes home Patti - - hauntingly good.
Sandra Martyres
An excellent atmospheric write Patti....beautifully scripted
An excellent atmospheric write Patti....beautifully scripted
Nilotpal Sarmah
Awesome!! Nice theme and very very beautifully composed; Your rhymes are amazing.
Awesome!! Nice theme and very very beautifully composed; Your rhymes are amazing.
krebiehlr1
Love the metaphor
Love the metaphor
Frank James Ryan Jr./FjR
You possess the most valued literary virtue of all....Taking a topic that has been explored so many times over...and somehow converting the ordinary into the "EXTRAORDINARY"...Pictorial ,and borderline cryptic....this work captures....tightly! ~FjR~
You possess the most valued literary virtue of all....Taking a topic that has been explored so many times over...and somehow converting the ordinary into the "EXTRAORDINARY"...Pictorial ,and borderline cryptic....this work captures....tightly! ~FjR~
Keith Robinson
A blanket of lonesomeness on long, bleak night.
A blanket of lonesomeness on long, bleak night.
poetwithcancer
This poem makes me feel solemn and somber with its truth. But it gives me strength to deal with the horrific side of reality that I am enduring. // This poem cheers me in one way. I don't get very many comments. And even though I have some poems published in *The New Yorker* and *The Atlantic Monthly* and several other magazines, that was years ago. Sometimes I feel I have lost my touch as a poet, or maybe I'm out of touch with the kind of poetry that appeals to the majority today. I'm not sure. I only know I don't get nearly as many comments as I once did on other sites. And I see some here who get thirty or even forty or more comments. I sometimes feel sad, especially when I get no comments at all. I mean, coments show that you are having an impact on people. That is one of the things a poet wants. So even a curt comment like "Good poem" does this. First of all, the comments show that people are reading; and that they are moved to comment. So I have felt very sad to see on some of the poems I wrote with greatest passion and desire to reach people, so little notice. But then, hen I see a poem as magnificent as the one you have written and posted here--"Abyss"--garnering only a few comments, then I know that maybe my poetry is still good, and just isn't popular in this locus or in this time. Because it is sure that this poem, if its value were measured by comments, you would have over a hundred of them, way over. // In my case, when I make a comment, I am feelingly aware that it costs me that commodity of time you write of here, which is dwindling for me. The awareness that my time is much shorter than it should have been, and may even be shorter than I think likely, limits me to comment only on those poems I judge to be of exceptional worth, or of personal value to me. I was also a poetry editor for a number of years, and, although I cannot trust my judgment on my own poems--too close to the poetry to be objective--I trust my judgment on the poems of others. I say to you wholeheartedly, this poem "Abysss" is a poem of exceptional worth. I would say that to you, no matter what my personal circumstances might have been. But they are what they are; and being what they are, this poem has even greater value to me. I will bookmark it and print it out, to read again and again. It helps me, if not to accept the fate I face, at least to deal with it better, and to place it into the context of this world of many types and kinds of fates--good and bad life, mostly happy or mosty sad, full of pleasure or full of pain--or both--short or relatively long life--but ultimately, death--the many different and the many similar fates that befall us as individuals. I don't usually mention my condition in a comment on anyone's poetry, but this poem hits home, deeply. It hurts me deeply, but it hurts me by making me feel compassion for all, and not just pity for myself. That is a good thing. It helps me to put my fate into the context of all other fates, better ones and worse ones, and to deal with my own particular fate with a little more equanimity and, without acceptacne, perhaps with a little more peace in my heart. Or something like that, which I do feel, on reading this great poem. Thank you. // Superlative poem, sister poet. --Michael
This poem makes me feel solemn and somber with its truth. But it gives me strength to deal with the horrific side of reality that I am enduring. // This poem cheers me in one way. I don't get very many comments. And even though I have some poems published in *The New Yorker* and *The Atlantic Monthly* and several other magazines, that was years ago. Sometimes I feel I have lost my touch as a poet, or maybe I'm out of touch with the kind of poetry that appeals to the majority today. I'm not sure. I only know I don't get nearly as many comments as I once did on other sites. And I see some here who get thirty or even forty or more comments. I sometimes feel sad, especially when I get no comments at all. I mean, coments show that you are having an impact on people. That is one of the things a poet wants. So even a curt comment like "Good poem" does this. First of all, the comments show that people are reading; and that they are moved to comment. So I have felt very sad to see on some of the poems I wrote with greatest passion and desire to reach people, so little notice. But then, hen I see a poem as magnificent as the one you have written and posted here--"Abyss"--garnering only a few comments, then I know that maybe my poetry is still good, and just isn't popular in this locus or in this time. Because it is sure that this poem, if its value were measured by comments, you would have over a hundred of them, way over. // In my case, when I make a comment, I am feelingly aware that it costs me that commodity of time you write of here, which is dwindling for me. The awareness that my time is much shorter than it should have been, and may even be shorter than I think likely, limits me to comment only on those poems I judge to be of exceptional worth, or of personal value to me. I was also a poetry editor for a number of years, and, although I cannot trust my judgment on my own poems--too close to the poetry to be objective--I trust my judgment on the poems of others. I say to you wholeheartedly, this poem "Abysss" is a poem of exceptional worth. I would say that to you, no matter what my personal circumstances might have been. But they are what they are; and being what they are, this poem has even greater value to me. I will bookmark it and print it out, to read again and again. It helps me, if not to accept the fate I face, at least to deal with it better, and to place it into the context of this world of many types and kinds of fates--good and bad life, mostly happy or mosty sad, full of pleasure or full of pain--or both--short or relatively long life--but ultimately, death--the many different and the many similar fates that befall us as individuals. I don't usually mention my condition in a comment on anyone's poetry, but this poem hits home, deeply. It hurts me deeply, but it hurts me by making me feel compassion for all, and not just pity for myself. That is a good thing. It helps me to put my fate into the context of all other fates, better ones and worse ones, and to deal with my own particular fate with a little more equanimity and, without acceptacne, perhaps with a little more peace in my heart. Or something like that, which I do feel, on reading this great poem. Thank you. // Superlative poem, sister poet. --Michael
robyn selters
gloriously flowing, seamless poem with superb closing stanza
gloriously flowing, seamless poem with superb closing stanza
Susan Jarvis
Hauntingly, atmospherically, creatively beautiful.
Hauntingly, atmospherically, creatively beautiful.
"... no strength can tether the night's lonely spaces..." one of the most beautiful lines I've read in a very long time. The last stanza is wall to wall perfect.