The light is out
a thick darkness spreads
filtering out a tint of shadow
a hint of shape.
Hands long like mother's
guide now, no light to splash
here or there,
no voice saying,
"I am the Light."
The veins never end
they criss-cross about the hands
over large hilly knuckles,
over little tufts of hair,
over pools of wrinkles.
If it wasn't for light
hands would guide more,
feel darkness, while lines
and finger tips would widen,
arch and dip,
forcing us on towards worlds
where light is created
through ends of fingers,
through warmth of smooth hands.
The endless search of earth
lies blanketed, reach out with
hands to splash a little light
in the dark.
5 comments:
Hi Tiger,
I like the overall effect of this poem--starting with the first stanza with the darkness spreading. I also like the idea in the 4th stanza that hands would guide more without light. I love the very end where you say "...reach out with/hands to splash a little light/in the dark."
Just a couple of observations--although I like your description of the hands and veins in stanza 3, I'm thinking that "tufts of hair" sounds like an old man, when I feel set up for a female hand since you earlier "Hands long like mother's." And I get a little confused in stanzas 2 and 3 about the speaker and situation.
As I said though, I love so much about this poem!
thanks for the comment Gina I'll see if I can straighten out what you mentioned. Thanks ;)
Okay, I did mention to you the other day that I had an itch to rewrite this. I think in part it's good exercise for my brain but the other thing is I simply find it hard to explain how I see things any other way. LOL So forgive me if I swiped something you already had in mind and by all means use it anyway. I'm only following your ideas and your words after all. ;)
Splash a Little Light
The light is dimming
thick darkness spreads,
bringing shadow
and a hint of shape.
Hands long
like mother guiding
now, no light to splash
here or there,
no comforting
voice saying,
I am light.
The veins never end
they crisscross over hands
around large hilly knuckles
and little tufts of hair,
over pools of wrinkles.
Were there no light
then hands would guide
more, feel the darkness,
fingertips would widen,
arch and dip, drawing us
through another world
where light is created
at finger ends,
and warmth alone
of more sensitive hands.
Through the endless
search of earth
night blanketed, reach out
with darkened hands
to splash a little light.
Tiger, the 2nd stanza seemed to read a little “choppy” to me. The last 3 lines in that one are rather short. Not sure, could just be me.
I like the 3rd stanza in this and the theme of the never ending veins that criss-cross about the hands. Also, the image of feeling around blindly in the next stanza.
I’m afraid the last stanza didn’t do much for me though…it seemed a little anti-climatic.
Tiger, as a whole this is nice work. It seems a bit of a departure from what I normally read from you. Thanks for posting.
-Steve
once again thanks for your help with this, hopefully I can get back into the swing of things. Cheers!
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