smoky balances (english poetry)


It’s a very simple poem, likely one of the simplest I’ve posted recently, but it’s a good practice to have some levity once in a while, some balance. My eyes tend to get tired of the denser colours.

Thank you for reading,
João-Maria.

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João-Maria

A tick clinging to the bristles of a purple boar.

27 thoughts on “smoky balances (english poetry)”

  1. Very nice. Simple is right up my alley and need not imply a lack of depth or significance, in my estimation, particularly where your works are concerned. It would seem that the medium of blogging tends to favor the short and simple, which in a sad way corresponds to the shrinking attention span of each subsequent generation (mine included) – a fault that is a product of technology and environment, I’m afraid. Anyway, well done.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Craig!,
      my problem isn’t the length of the poems, I mean, my last poem posted was nearly eight pages. I think it’s more about the content, the theme, I’d say. I write things sometimes that seem so lunatic that I don’t dare show them, perhaps for the best.
      Attention span is real hurdle, but I do think at this point, most people who do read me know what to expect in that regard, haha, especially when I post so rarely.
      As always, you’re the best, thank you so much!

      Liked by 1 person

  2. The linguistic choices you make when penning your poetry are exquisite. I can tell you take your time when writing and do not rush the words. Each word choice feels deliberate. I feel like when reading this poem, I am staring at objects of nature through a soft-focus lens or through the haze of fog. It is beautiful in a way that my own words cannot do justice. I am eager to read more of your poetry. I think we should only write simple poems if that is what we want to write. Don’t pander to the audience, but instead, we should choose to elevate them.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Isabelle, this message was a swaddling of the mind. I felt your kindness before my heart had time to synthesise it, which is a rare occurrence. I don’t usually water-down my poems or anything of the sort, for my anyone, I just write a considerable breadth of poems with differing tones, some simpler, some more exhaustive. I do, however, have this strange fear that each poem I publish crystallises my style in the eyes of who reads me, thus, I create expectations that I’m oft anxious I can’t fully meet with each poem.
      Previous to this poem, I published “taste of salt”, a long-form multi-parted narrative poem with a static tone, and after this poem, I published “a whole spring”, a long-form multi-parted surrealist poem, so, as you can see, I’m not the most consistent, and I’m afraid that might push away some potential kind readers such as yourself, who I yearn to interact with more than anything.
      Regardless, I’m very glad to have you by. I’m endlessly grateful for you message.

      Like

  3. Wow! Even your response is penned exquisitely. Your gift with words is evident in every word you lovingly select. I understand writing a variety of poems. Sometimes, I feel as the poems write themselves, I am simply the planchette that they utilize as a spirit does in a seance. I have a style-I am aware of my said style. I utilize metaphors and similes because I am scared to not hide behind their scrims. To tell the blatant truth is vulgar to me when it comes to my writing, and of course, there is a psychological underpinning to that, but that is neither here nor there. I think it is beautiful that you exercise your creative muscle in a variety of ways. It is important to be able to play with words, lest they become too monotonous to us. You are a creator. In some ways you are a god of the words you select, so have a universe as varied as the twinkling stars dancing above us and the bright feathers of the peacock. Do not be consistent. Do not be boring. Be alive. Shine. Shimmer and let the world watch you.

    Thank you for your kind words. I hope we can continue this connection because your words inspire me to write more of my own. You are very kind.

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    1. I’m just fearful of growing, Isabelle. I’ve written since very young, and, in a sense, I harken that distensibility, the way my eye then poured into the commissures of things, how I saw, from low-point, a loftiness in this world that fell like lightened cinders. Back then, I had no technique, but I had immense, unclouded sight. Now, I can wield words like never, but have the sombrous weight of the world on top of me, and can only see it from above. Ego mists my eyes, pain charges my bones, and I loft no longer.
      Somewhat innocently, I believe that if I dart from form to form, or subject to subject, I can elude the blindness, if only for a while longer. And I need all the while that I can get, lest I feel the compunction of nothing having enjoyed its bliss. I’m a baby birch of writing, in a sense: infinitely delicate and oblivious.

      I’m happy that I inspire you; folks like us, well, they aren’t of easy finding. We hide well in the shade beneath the clovers. I, too, hope we can continue this connection.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I understand the fear of growing. I often fear growing stagnant. I fear my words growing a film of dust and boring the reader. Worse yet, I fear boring myself. I want to be precarious in the sense that I am almost always near falling apart. I don’t know if I trust myself to be whole.

        I still feel as though I have no technique. Though I have grown more comfortable in my own style, I do not find there are others who write like me. Maybe that makes me a raris avis, but it can be lonely sometimes being one of a kind.

        You have to do what feels best for you. If you enjoy the feelings of darting from form to form, then stay true to what makes you happy. We only have this journey but once. It is what we make of it. Yes, I realize that’s trite, but it is true.

        Only recently am I learning to enjoy the views along the way because we may never experience them again.

        Liked by 1 person

  4. This is absolutely stunning! You may call it a simple poem, but I am overwhelmed with it.

    “a realm in which unnamed lovers dove
    their heads into flowers, or drew bones…”

    “I hold that thin world neatly folded
    into a ball of paper stained…”

    How do you come up with these beautiful lines?! I’m an instant fan, Jaõa-Maria! Thank you for sharing your gift 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you thousand-fold, Katy! I’m not sure how I come up with them; I think, in a way, they come up with me. I’m glad you enjoyed this poem, that makes me feel a little less insecure about posting shorterformes.

      Liked by 1 person

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