Behind Every Cloud

After three cups of coffee I’m fully anxious.

The wind thrashes the limbs of the trees,
chases leaves down the wet street.

Winter.

The cats go in and out, and in again.

I force a smile.

The silver lining and all that.

Outside it’s so gray it hurts the eyes.


For dVerse. Bjorn has us visiting the idea of silence in poetry. I tend to use sparse, trimmed-down lines–this (I think) naturally lends itself to silent space. My first draft of this poem was a 6-line lyric, but to heighten the feel of unsettled quiet that I was striving for, I broke each short sentence into its own line.

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Denise Levertov: Intimation

Denise Levertov
I am impatient with these branches, this light.
The sky, however blue, intrudes.
Because I’ve begun to see
there is something else I must do,
I can’t quite catch the rhythm
of days I moved well to in other winters.
The steeple tree
was cut down, the one that daybreak
used to guild–that fervor of birds and cherubim
subdued. Drought has dulled
many a green blade.
                  Because
I know a different need has begun
to cast its line out from me into
a place unknown, I reach
for a silence almost present,
elusive among my heartbeats.

______________

My apologies to all those who read the first posting of this–I accidentally left out a line which has since been edited back in. I am usually very careful with others’ poetry, and it was not my intention to disrupt the meaning or flow of this excellent poem.