Everything Becomes A Stranger

even a word in a sentence,
you hold it there, lock it in and
for a while it makes sense
then it begins to work itself loose
wanting to move
wanting to move on
another appears in its place
an unfamiliar voice,
saying something else;

a poem is a silent tree in spate
one by one its green eyes fall
one by one new eyebrows are raised
only you know it is a different tree
the shadows paint another dark
and whatever is flowering
is not caused by your being;

everything becomes a stranger
once it leaves, once it falls
words, worlds,
people,
even you walking away
carrying a poem
carrying a sentence
cast shapes angled into the sun
as if the light is making love to you
in a different language.

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46 thoughts on “Everything Becomes A Stranger

  1. What a fascinating poem about writing a poem and once published it travels alone getting comments to form its own identity showing even the author new sides to itself as it tackles the world.

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  2. I really loved this poem – the way a poem changes shape, words change, meanings fall away – the way the familiar becomes stranger –

    “a poem is a silent tree in spate” – simply beautifully put

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  3. Beautiful….you come up with such beautiful images. I like the idea of light making love in a different language…does not surprise me that your creative mind would envision that thought. Smiles!

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  4. This is my new favorite from you Rajaniโค๏ธ especially love; “a poem is a silent tree in spate one by one its green eyes fall one by one new eyebrows are raised only you know it is a different tree the shadows paint another dark and whatever is flowering is not caused by your being.” Beautifully penned.โค๏ธ

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  5. You have truly captured “how a poem is born” each word and line carries meaning. Sometimes, I feel like poems write themselves. It’s as if, a compelling force urges one to put the words in a certain form to convey a message.

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  6. I so agree and love that you chose to compare a poem with a tree. We may give birth to poems, but just as children do, they find their own way into the world, and are changed and altered by that exposure. A bit (seed) of our original DNA might remain, but is altered by contact with others and their singular and individual understanding. That was so clear to me, once I joined the poetry blog-o-sphere. Every individual reads and takes in through their own filter of experience. They take away whatever has meaning to their own person. Some more than others. Even more so, when the reader is self, years after the writing. Thanks so much for this elegant lesson and reflection.

    Elizabeth

    https://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2016/11/23/the-bull-dancer/

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    1. Thanks Elizabeth. People are going go bring their own views to the poem and so alter its existence… a lot like relationships. Only you know how the poem..or by extension, you have been changed in the process.

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  7. The secret (if there is any) may be found in an old biblical tradition about welcoming the stranger. Instead of being saddened or resentful that things (and people) become strange and stranger, welcome the change. Welcome the stranger.

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