if then, a rose eclipsed

i have fallen in love again, for

maybe I remind you of

a wreath of soft

turquoise dreams

where you felt so safe

you couldn't move, even though you knew

I always wore a dress, that cerulean frock

blest by ornamentals (pale earrings)

and young fireflies.

maybe I remind you of 

a sun kissed by

the petal taste of  labyrinth 

ubiquitous (nevermore you say)

in our tranquil distaste, 

for the way we look,

when drinking blistered coffee

from an untouched cup,

having wanted to emanate,

“we are perforated of martyrdom 

for you” and

you only.

maybe i remind you of

darling blues~

your mother once

mistook me for

you, as i tried 

to evaporate into

a pink laden sky

with the sear of panoptes instead

of stars bearing the poise

of moisture.

maybe I remind you of yourself

and you are too scared,

for black swans and silk scarves have

become the object

that peruses blankly 

with so much hatred,

that we forget that

the ones we love, turn

stasis, after touching us

sublime and sweet, for

atonal at heart we are,

and i do it so well,

making love to thanatos,

and disgracing him

and his evangelicals,

whenever you feel bittersweet 

maybe I remind you of nothing

just the nebula of an

half hearted abyss, that we loved to call home

a velvet mirror, just to reimburse 

in you, that you are not 

a creature of blood, that you are

just paperweight, wishing

that the oval saucers

that hold us both

would sink lopsided into

a machiavelliian floor.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

The last stanza reminds me of something Plath might have written for Ted.
And the overall tone of this hints of her too. As if the only reason he could be interested is because of all the reminders she is...
I did my Masters' thesis...on Plath and Sexton....so, obviously, I love this one.
j.

[Degare]

Thank you for such a generous review, Jacob.
You are too kind.

Degare

[RomaJ]

Degare, this is a beautifully intense and imaginative poem.

I love the way you weave surreal imagery with intimate reflection..lines like ‘a wreath of soft turquoise dreams’ and ‘making love to thanatos’ are haunting and memorable.

The repeated phrase ‘maybe I remind you of’ gives the piece a rhythm that feels like a cascade of thought and emotion.

It’s a complex poem that rewards slow, careful reading, and it left me lingering on its images and feelings long after finishing.

[Degare]

Many thanks for your review, Roma.

[Degare]

The fact that my poems can tend memorable is such a kind compliment. I am glad you enjoyed it

[Jansy]

Ah, Degare, reading this felt like falling through a stained-glass window made of memory and desire, each shard catching light just before it cuts.

It’s haunting how love in your poem keeps folding back on itself, like a mirror realizing it’s also a wound. The repetition of “maybe I remind you of…” turns self-doubt into a kind of music; tender, disoriented, and holy in its confusion.

Honestly, it’s less a poem than a séance with affection itself.

[Degare]

Thank you for reviewing Jansy. Your description of the timorous mirror and self dysphonia was well phrased. The suicide of Narcissus, the awakening of echo and so on and so on

[emmajoygreen]

There is a both reality and fantasy in your words.. a love of the tenses and a desire for the finest, strongest of all. But. reading a second time, there is a blend of possibility and dreams that might, could - come true. Your use of language is more than fine, style - incredible.. touch of the past Persian.. or, perhaps, a translation from one language to another and another. Whatever.. your poem should be visited more than once.

'after touching us
sublime and sweet, for
atonal at heart we are,
and i do it so well,
making love to thanatos,
and disgracing him
and his evangelicals,
whenever you feel bittersweet '

[Degare]

Thank you Emma. Too many compliments really.
Your interpretation has much weight, much insight.
As a non-native, English feels much like a dress, where perhaps such fantasies although in abstraction, could
materialize.
This review meant a lot to me.

Degare

[Davidgeo]

Cerulean blue... ha.

You are a lovely writer. You read like a waterfall.
Also you induce introspection and that's f*****g fantastic in combination with the lovely waterfall.
and velvet mirrors

[Degare]

Means a lot to me.
Thanks David.

Degare

[Kelly Scheppers]

It is poetry like this that reminds me of sinking in an oversized chair on winter's night, feeling the cold world outside slip into obscurity. So absorbing and beautifully composed. Wonderful to meet you!

[Degare]

Wonderful to meet you too Kelly!

Degare

[nomoontea]

Hi Jacob. I love those raw brutally honest poetesses too!
This is paraphrased for you. Its simply how I remember it:
I do not do
I do not do
Anymore black shoe
In which I have had to live, ...poor and white for a year...
Thats kind of my attitude toward structure