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Clouds Come Rolling

 Sharing with The Sunday Muse #198. Come & see what the poets are up to. :) 


Against the razor of yesterday's beat,
back and forth, strop until it snaps--
that old cobweb, 
the seat restraint on memory.

Clouds come rolling
grumbling at the window

Can't catch the rain, can't hold us.
Lead us to the water, sing us
cleaner than the curb
just laid to slick the drowner's path.

Clouds come rolling
fumbling at the roofline

Feel the prick of passing through
down the streets where no cars go,
river man calling,
sliding loose down all the concrete

Clouds come rolling
humbling wall and window

Clouds come rolling
Clouds come rolling

Greeting and salutations! It's been a week of discordantly trying to write my way around a growing sense that books are an "ancient technology" better suited to the discount racks at Goodwill and a strong sense that I need to find a place to experience poetry in the wild, in nearby readings. My brother says that I what I need is more book discussion and less...I don't know. Staring at the wall, maybe (you can't see our walls). Seriously, it would take an archaeologist to find my walls. Maybe spring cleaning is on the agenda. Are the walls interesting enough to discover them? Will they reveal secrets about the past couple of years that are valuable to know?  

Hope your week is full of good discussion and interesting walls. :) 

--Chrissa

Comments

  1. I can really feel this Chrissa. You have given the real storms out the window a deeper feel and life. as life can be full of many storms. I love this! I say we have more writer discussions, and get togethers the second we can. It would take an archeologist to get to my walls too, you are not alone there.

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  2. This is so powerful Chrissa. Such a probing perspective, close to the heart and bone. Loved its rolling, rolling, rolling!

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  3. "Against the razor of yesterday's beat, / back and forth, strop until it snaps" is great. And all the "Clouds come rolling" lines that refrain, that roll in on us as we read.

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  4. Your poem crackles like lightning in the storm. Very lively writing, Chrissa!

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  5. ´ Against the razor of yesterday's beat,'
    Wow!!!

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  6. My wall claim is to, "cleaner than the curb just laid to slick the drowner's path," seems
    some of them are, at least something for the drowner to stubble and fall on.
    Seriously leaning on walls with dirty hand support is one of my pet peeves.
    Libraries are a good source of reading for free, many are on Kindle at ours.
    I love your word, "drowner", I think it can have two meanings.
    ..

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  7. I love when ‘notes’ extend the ‘story’ of a poem, as yours often do. Razor strop resonates deeply in my mind .. remembering tales my mother told me of her younger brothers suffering under its mighty power.

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  8. You show how effective repetition can be in this powerful mood piece which is also a word painting that has great delicacy and detail. I am blown away especially by your stanza end lines..."the seat restraint on memory," indeed. Whatever is hiding the walls may be only doing its job.

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  9. "fumbling at the roof line"

    i will never see clouds as not fumbling again.

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  10. Luv everything that happened when "clouds come rolling"
    Have a good Sunday Chrissa

    Much love...

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  11. The build up to this is powerful. Love,

    "Clouds come rolling
    fumbling at the roofline"

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