Disappointment Poem by Gary Witt
Disappointment
Blue clouds bend toward a red sun that hangs
In the air like shoes from a telephone line.
Crimson dawn has crept in with the smell of hay
And the silence of sleeping crickets, as light
Meanders across the rafters of a tree-lined road.
There is wine hidden in this soil; truffles
Growing beneath these trees; and regret, polished,
Gleaming, parked out back, behind the garage.
The air is August-tired, Sunday-morning still;
It clings to backs and brows until they perspire,
Until they surrender to humid, high-strung hope,
To silo prayers, round, grouped, graded, and weighed—
That will turn to cumulonimbus despair:
The green squall line that ends in pelting hail.
August tired, Sunday morning still...that feeling of impending....something...is just wonderful. The air is laden with...something...that will soon be here, which makes the ending squall line...just perfect!
You may find disappointment and regret here, but there is also a sense of anticipation-perhaps I connote stillness with waiting? - . At first I found some of the verb tenses jarring, particularly meandered, but reading through several times, I'm not sure how I'd change them. . Very tight, controlled poem, ending on that squall line.
I really like this Mr Witt. I worried at first about the 'regret'being all 'polished, gleaming, parked out back behind the garage' I found myself wanting to put it in the garage or at least put a tarp over it...because it takes a lot of work to get it looking like that. Then I realized that if regret gets all dented and dinged up from the hail...what is damaged regret anyway? .....Then I wondered if 'regret' were a motorcycle ride I didn't get to take because of the storm.......woah.......and if the storm is a metaphor for death? anyway....nice trip sir........thanks see ya down the road sjc
... silo prayers, that ends in pelting hail. ........................................ As irony of fate... 10... Very good... Best wishes, Tsira
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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9/19/2024 4:58:15 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Astonishing imagery and meaning. Well worth the multiples readings I gave it in order to sink in. August tired... you really coined a phrase with that one. When you become famous I am sure it will catch on. Good one Gary.