She is a precious singularity,
Alone in a swirl of family, friends.
A modern ascetic.
Not spoiled; simply unprepared
to be what he believes she could be.
He says, 'Wily.'
She says, 'Weak.'
He misses her touch,
She misses a phantom.
He cries softly,
She cries foul.
At the end of her driveway
and the end of his rope.
He will burn this village in order to save it.
' She is a precious singularity, Alone in a swirl of family, friends...' Sounds like someone i know, as well. This is a very well worded tribute to somebody who plainly means a lot to you. Those who swim against the prevailing tide often feel alienated, and racked by self-doubt. It is so easy to label someone else spoiled, totally overlooking the higher expectations placed upon those blessed with opportunity and talent. 'He will burn this village in order to save it.' Loyalty, the most important component in any friendship. Nice work.
Mike, sjg pointed me to your poem. A fine contribution and a deserving observation about singularity. The form you've chosen is an apt delivery mechanism - brevity works where wordsmithing often challenges. The drama and intrigue is sustained in 3rd person dialogue but the meaning is clearly 1st person. I hope you have more to come! Rgds, Ivan
ps- look forward to more from you. all-around, this was poignant and perceptive. Keen-hitting. If she cries `foul', it's only cause there are more chances. Surprise me when you step out of yourself.
Extend your rope. Sometimes you have to do it on your own. best care, welcome -~- goldy locks
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You reveal much of yourself in this well written, compact tribute to a challenging young woman. I like your subject - she reminds me of my daughter, who doesn't suffer fools gladly but who listens when I need her... I like your poem too. You have a natural flair for choosing words. Hope you write lots more. love, Allie xxxx