I watch you
nursing bruises
under a peeling birch
your skin purple, blotted,
and note how
something beautiful rises
from seeing vulnerability
lain out like
this.
I kick off my name
to kneel at your side,
try to scrape some meaning
from the words,
from your skin –
it’s a feeling which arrests me;
arrested me then,
still holds me now.
-
Author:
Ryan Robson-Bluer (
Offline) - Published: November 6th, 2022 12:27
- Comment from author about the poem: where do we glean inspiration from? when do we become a poet?
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 34
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments1
'I kick off my name
to kneel at your side'..
here, dear Poet
when we surrender ourselves
in our yearning
to glean
what truth, is afforded to us
by chance or circumstance,
here, between our selfishness
and our impassioned selflessness
where exists our sincerity's
anchoring roots,
here where our inked syllables, amount
to more than poetic aesthetics
to affect, empower and even befreind
readers, we'll never meet...
here, imbued in your Poetry
exists, that which you aspire to behold
only it's you that's gifting it, to the world
and for that, i thank you! sincerely
wow what a beautiful comment, thanks so much!
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