Too Much is a Poem

too much is not a bruise
that shows off its hidden colours,
then disappears without a trace;

too much is the air heavy with summer’s angst
exploding into a raucous thunderstorm,
darkening the fevered night,
flashes of despair naked against
half-hearted window panes,
the heat on tiptoe to meet the outpouring;

too much is a poem unstruck by lightning,
words bursting from its wretched mouth,
raining down on the burnt,
the ravaged, the waiting;

too much is that poem,
a reborn ocean streaming from its hair,
the riven truth flowing from its lips,
its cry undoing the ancient myth of the sky,
standing alone in the wind,
bare feet in the growing sludge,

too much is that poem
holding out a broken umbrella
to shelter mine.


40 thoughts on “Too Much is a Poem

  1. too much is not a bruise
    that shows off its hidden colours,
    then disappears without a trace;…………Love this… How often though that once the bruise has disappeared ones emotions can
    stay bruised for a long time after. I did enjoy your poem.


    1. Perhaps we need poetry that explodes with the truth… if only to allow the ones that don’t -to exist… but we will never know how much is too much and whether it will make any difference! Thanks Rosemary.


  2. This is an explosion of magnificent lines and images. I’m enchanted by the idea of a “poem unstruck by lightning”, I can’t stop imagining what it would do with all the extra energy, where it might go.


  3. You put the pivotal “not” in the first line–too much will not “disappears without a trace.” The storm allegory–WOW! These will be the last images seared on my heart: “flashes of despair naked against
    half-hearted window panes” . . . “raining down on the burnt” . . . the poem is a total Golem, a desperately created being that rages,, hopefully not too late. The poem reminds me of “The Theatre and its Double” by a crazed theatre philosopher who says theatre must be like a disease that infects its audience. (I hope my poem is the “too much” described here–but I think, sadly–there’s further to go. )


    1. Thanks so much Susan. It is a self deprecating look at my own writing I think… though whether any kind will make a difference is still debatable. I think your work and writing do fall i the too much category!


  4. I’m trying to get my poem to get struck by lightening but it only ends up like house clothes that nobody sees. I love the umbrella line.


  5. We are the poorest judges of what we do. That said, don’t judge it, just do the work. In the long run, we won’t be around when it is found to be either good or bad. And again, that will only depend on the finder and his/her current mood. So what does it matter? We write for so many reasons, and the best one is to hope that at some point, the breath of another might be stilled, for one moment, by what we have said. If that happens only once in our lifetime, then we have succeeded. You have stilled my breath more than once. I return for that reason only. If you have not done so, read Rainier Maria Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet. If you have already done so, do it again! And pay attention. You are worth the effort,

    Elizabeth (loud mouthed, nosy poet)

    Liked by 1 person

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