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Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Friday, May 17, 2013

The Forest of Despair


Artwork by Chelsea Bednar
You do not want to enter this forest
Though I have dwelt here forever,
I still do not know it
Its labyrinthine trails lead in circles
or straight to nowhere
Time does not follow rules here
Minutes last for weeks and yet
years disappear in a second
Sorrow hangs
like a wet wool blanket
from the limbs of trees
which have never seen the sun
You do not want to enter this forest
I am beyond rescue
I have lived so long in darkness
that I have forgotten how to even hope

17 comments:

mindlovemisery said...

Oh wow this is ominous and beautiful1 I love the word labyrinthine! I was so happy to see you btw =)

VaNdAnA ShArMa said...

You speak just the thoughts ii had a few days ago. While yours a jungle, mine is a dead city...

http://vandanasharmaa.blogspot.in/2013/05/dead-city.html

Kerry O'Connor said...

I really like the way you worked the image of time into your poem. This is a dark and twisty interpretation of the artwork - very good indeed.

sharplittlepencil.com said...

Lola, WOW! I used this same piece of art, but never connected with the darkness and mythological danger possibilities. (Yeah, I'm just THAT upbeat, LOL)

From the first line, it reads like that horrible forest on the way to Oz. Still gives me shivers. Love your notice of the different times on the clocks and using it to full effect. Great job. Amy

listeningdaisy said...

Chilling,
I love the line
"Sorrow hangs
like a wet wool blanket".

Hannah said...

I love the cyclical quality of this piece...your beginning cycles round to your ending and I really enjoy how you offer the impenetrable depth of the forest in your poem. Great work, Lola!

Brian Miller said...

sorrow hangs like a wet wool blanket...heavy for sure...great description that...heres to hoping the warning you give does not scare all away...in them entering, you all may find your way through...

Margaret said...

This piece has a very strong contrast between light an dark. It does have a labyrinth feel to it and getting lost here would be disturbing. Awesome!

Susan said...

I love what you do here with time not following rules and sorrow like a wet woolen blanket . . . as if a branch of the forest is speaking, an old mansion, or maybe--a sleeping beauty--one who no longer believes in kisses. I want very much to enter the woods and assist her in looking up ... Wow! Such feeling.

hyperCRYPTICal said...

Sad but beautiful words Lolamouse. Tis true that for some, once the forest is entered - it is difficult to leave.

Anna :o]

Truedessa said...

A haunting poem that weaved it's own tale. Nicely done.

Akila G said...

Mindblowing scary! to think of living in and out of darkness....

hedgewitch said...

You really catch the ominous overtones of the picture, LM--and the feel of being lost in the woods, at first panic and then total, mind-numbing despair. There are many forest to get lost in, and sometimes the ones that aren't physical are the worst.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

LOVE this interpretation of the painting. Especially "Sorrow hangs like a wet wool blanket"......steeped in atmosphere, a good read.

Helen said...

Total despair must feel like being trapped in a forest ... no way out. Great writing, Mouse.

Kay L. Davies said...

I love the way two or more poets can interpret the same artwork in different ways.
A fabulous labyrinth you've drawn with your words, Ms Mouse!
K

Mynx said...

So sad