Tuesday, July 12, 2011

"what are you?"



you asked me to walk with you to the river
you carried a brown bottle and a message
tri-folded between the pages of a magazine
tucked securely inside your plaid fannel shirt - i followed

close behind you stepping into each step
you left in the grass and dirt

a the rivers edge we sipped from that brown bottle, laughed
out loud at the disgusting photos,  you kissed me
once, only once - then stared quietly straight out
to the river  - "what are you.. you asked
a stone or a twig?

what do you mean a stone or a twig

"you know a stone falls into the river and settles where it lies, a
twig is carried with the flow of the river never knowing where it
will wind up in the end -
so what are you, a stone or a twig?"

well then i guess i am a stone, i said

you kissed me again - then i watched helplessly
as you floated away -
i still carry that message
after all these years

tri-folded and
securely tucked

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2011

Posted for One Shot Wednesday

Painting is call "Spirit of the Rum River"  by Mary Ann Cleary - I grew up sitting by this rivers edge in Minnesota....

19 comments:

  1. Wow, nicely played, stone and twig, common as anything but such signifigance in this piece.

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  2. Great poem! Very dark and deep!

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  3. Wow, thanks Pat and Poemblaze I am glad you both liked it...bkm

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  4. mmm...fine story telling bk...i am probably a twig...

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  5. ( Love this ღ
    (¯`♥´¯)
    `*.¸.*

    ❤ H

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  6. I enjoyed this, it's sweet and to the point.

    I too spent many a summer evening along the Rum, from St Francis to Anoka and many a winter's day.

    :)

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  7. I love this... I have thought so much about the message "in" the bottle, but this was message "and" a bottle... and the other floated away... I guess an experience that is so universal in life... twig or stone? Hummmm.....

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  8. WOW, I so love this poem, and the bittersweet story it tells. So poignantly beautiful. Ouch!

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  9. Wow, indeed! This opens up an old wound... stones and twigs... couldn't have put it better myself.

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  10. I love this! It's meaning flows through so many different levels. What comes to mind is this saying from childhood "sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me".
    How incredibly wrong that was. Words can break our hearts and wound us for life.

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  11. Oh, Barbara, this is so evocative...brought tears to my eyes. Worth reading over and over.

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  12. Wow...love it, stones and twigs. Beautiful !

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  13. in answer to your question, i will buy the first round for you. smiles.

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  14. Aw, such intense emotion sweetly expressed. Lovely story that brings a prick to the heart :)

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  15. I'm a twig, I'm a TWIG! (I really am--grin!)

    Truth makes good stories. Life is nothing but one long lesson. (I read that in someone's blog.)

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  16. Oh my gosh.. I am still gasping at your incredible imagery and fabulous wordplay, Barbara!

    *sigh* I guess being a stone has its own flaws... and disadvantages... the wait for the twig's return must be awful! :(

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  17. Very touch sweet story poem, prose, or expression of heart. Very well written and presented. Such a gentle, genuine voice. It is Superb and a fav so far. Much class and skill.

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  18. The soul of your verse...
    'a the rivers edge we sipped from that brown bottle, laughed
    out loud at the disgusting photos, you kissed me
    once, only once - then stared quietly straight out
    to the river - "what are you.. you asked
    a stone or a twig? '
    What a lovely question to ask... and BKM I am hesitating to say this but I think I am a stone... I have something of my own that carries a little mass... like my thoughts my innerself and my nature... and as I love river and its ways... it shapes me.... as it weathers me down.. rubbing, grinding and living on day to day life... making me more round, soft on the corner so that I can follow her much more better with rounded edges of ego... and at last end up on the sea beach as a grain of sand... with the seed of life carried within...
    I loved this one BKM it made my day thinking about me ... as what I am... twig in the end does not change... just gets blown away and rot....
    Well this is my feeling ... and it may not be true too...

    Shashi
    ॐ नमः शिवाय
    Om Namah Shivaya
    http://shadowdancingwithmind.blogspot.com/2011/07/whispers-cuckoos-song-and-smell-of-love.html

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  19. this is absolutely stunning! i think i am a twig tied to a stone ~ settling to the bottom, but dreaming of floating on to discover what life might bring around the bend.

    your poetry is exquisite! ♥

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