Sunday, June 14, 2009




Original Poetry Sunday, Vol. 1, No. 5

Inasmuch as my life - or at any rate, my mind - has been out of my control this week, I am presenting another of my Mexican poems.



Palenque

I gave you what I could, a tithe,
a careful measure of truth. My lies,
my sins were gifts of omission yet
Your heartless offering to laughing friends
cut me smiling down you let it slip

She's not good at long-term relationships.

Guttered by despair, dogs with dead eyes
starve, beg oblivion or meat, and choking trucks
spew ephemeral midnight revelers drinking shame,
while atop Palenque's ruined stone breathless
and reeking of regret I am old beyond measure

If I had told you then my stale tale of passion
loosed like a dove for one last sacrificial flight,
broken, spent at morning's harsh window,
if I had offered you that dessicated crumb,
would you have dried my tears and loved me more?

Casitas, February 20, 2009

You'll find more Original Poetry Sunday contributions at:

Yes Is Red
Robert Frost's Banjo
Secret Poems from the Times Literary Supplement
Poetikat's Invisible Keepsakes
Apogee Poet
Premium T.

I see that Poetikat has just celebrated her second Blogiversary with a podcast of one of her poems. Happy Blogiversary, Kat, and thank you for the poem.

11 comments:

Angie Ledbetter said...

Nice!

Fav lines:
atop Palenque's ruined stone breathless
and reeking of regret I am old beyond measure

Audrey said...

You write really beautiful, moving poetry! You use words in such a melodic fashion - I always hear music when I am reading your work.

John Hayes said...

Really moving-- & great sounds-- "tithe" & "truth," "choking trucks...drinking shame," "passion/sacrificial." As Angie pointed out the Palenque lines are arresting. Well done!

Kathryn Magendie said...

Wow....this is stunning, Sandra.

(as for your question about tender graces on audio book - yes, there are plans to do that! not sure when it will be completed, though)

Sandra Leigh said...

Angie and Audrey, John and Kathryn - thank you so much.

Kathryn - I look forward to seeing your poetry in Ocean - and maybe on your blog??

René Wing said...

that's just wonderful Sandra... the poem that is. I love these poems you were writing in Mexico. perhaps that will be your yearly sojourn, like O'Keeffe's New Mexico? :) "... while atop Palenque's ruined stone breathless/ and reeking of regret I am old beyond measure..." really struck me. Uh.

I notice now that I was also struck by John's line about measure, and that you both use that word today, and that it's in that wonderful opening line here too. Both, of course, poems about love and loving and all our failures at this most difficult of arts.

René Wing said...

I also like that you "let slip" that bit of a rhyme. :)

Rose Marie Raccioppi said...

"would you have dried my tears and loved me more?"

How often we come to ask that very question - and find that it is our very SELF that opens the door to solace real. Thank you for words so deeply felt.

Thank you for visiting this Flag Day, I just returned from having read the posted poem at a community gathering in celebration of Flag Day. Life is GOOD!

Reya Mellicker said...

Wow. We do pay a tithe in relationship, don't we?

Not good at long term relationships? What does that mean?? To hell with her!

Happy Sunday!

Sandra Leigh said...

René, Sh-h-h-h-h. That rhyme-ish bit was part of my Baby Steps to Rhyme programme. I was trying to sneak it past my rhyme alarm. Oh - and have you seen Susan's comment on your blog? I think you've received the ultimate (and well-deserved) compliment.

Rose Marie - a public reading? That's wonderful.

Reya, yes, we pay a tithe - but we ask much more in return.

Mairi said...

Rhymes, especially end rhymes are scarey things. Your rhyme alarm seems to be getting used to them though. Tithe and lies are perilously close to rhyming. Good enough for both the ear and eye to recognise them as such, followed on by eyes and dried, all half rymes with the long i, well, I'm afraid you're well into them. We won't even mention the very nice stale tale. The extended dove metaphor is painful and sad, as it was meant to be. Morning's harsh window seems particularly apt.

Blog Archive