Thursday, January 28, 2010

Trouble in Paradise (Poem)

The following poem consists entirely of tweets I contributed during the poetry jam on Tuesday evening, January 19, on Twitter. Generally, the lines appear as I tweeted them; some words or phrases from some lines have been combined with others or pulled out to form their own lines, and punctuation and capitalization have been added throughout. To see how all 21 contributors' tweets, including my own, were combined by our word-knitter Glynn Young into a poem called "Adam and Eve by the Narrow Lake", go here. Another series of three, also edited by Glynn, is here. The final piece from the evening, Poems in Conversation", is here.

Trouble in Paradise  


Eve, flowing hair so gold, so soft,
would sit amidst grass
at water’s edge, gazing,
mostly wondering.

Hoping to read the clouds
another morning,
she looked to sun for solace,
bent an ear to hear the music.

Showy birds in boughs
did turn the landscape red.

Sky so bright as tin
did distort for her
his heart beat.

Adam, going nowhere,
read the signs well:
Love be dead
where roses pale.

Looking for such bright fruit
Eve denied,
Adam, as he dared,
to satisfy his quaking hunger.

His heart beat not
for her.


Hope rises
another morning.

She of wounded heart
still could not give up;
once more she bid
to see him,
once more did greet him.

Eve, hair flowing,
bid Adam come closer
one final good night.

Urged back, moving toward
and then against,
Adam realized his great mistake.

Her heart that once held hope,
now shards, cleft,
did turn to ice,
forming black as her feeling.


Hope falls.
A heart beat
heard not
by one not loved
loses meaning.

Eve does fight with words,
for words,
to get word out:

‘Tis the end

Like a whisper
never heard.


A freight of words
weighs down
when heart is broke.

Eve would prefer
poems and prayers.

Fragments of words
sound as tin,
distort her reasoning,
leaving her no good words
on which to fall
back in love.


Signs of loss:
the ashy fragment of a wasp’s nest
bird’s wing, torn
roses pale
black leaves
the landscape red
the sky black.


Eve (as usual),
she thought of Adam,
how he left her
like a whisper never heard,
how he left her


Lips twisting, curling,
jawbone held tight,
Eve hath no need to be poetic.

Words make haste from mouth,
do twist the tongue at times,
sometimes shame.

Every black note
she hit did resound.


Having known a thousand ways
round him,
she makes her point
a new night’s play
at water’s edge.

In her tall blue Chinese jar
she put elixir
for nights long, for nights dark,
mixed cloves and thyme and
sticks of cinnamon
with rose petals
eggshells so delicate
bird’s wing torn
the ashy fragment of a wasp’s nest
bad memories.


By evening
silver fish do send up a clue:

Love be dead
as she herself might be.


Those who witnessed
saw how Adam
turned his back,
and back against the wind,
never heard.

She began to sing:
A song it was
of wanting,
of Adam,
another morning,
love grown cold,

Copyright © 2010 Maureen E. Doallas. All Rights Reserved.


M.L. Gallagher said...

I love this poem. It is so fluid and evokes such sorrow and pain and sadness by the waters. It is quite beautiful.

I love this phrasing:

A freight of words

weighs down


when heart is broke.


Thanks for sharing this Maureen.... I'm getting inspired to create poetry.... must try twitter... :)


sarah said...

What a great poem!! :-)

Kathleen said...

There is so much grief in this poem. I have several girlfriends who are going through similar grief. Lovers deciding on purpose to unchoose, unfriend the one who used to be the beloved. It is heartbreaking to watch. This captured the feeling. It effects everyone.

Kathleen said...

Your poem effortlesly inspired this, my first comment poem. I'm copying you Maureen. :)

It lays imprinted
a cold indention
around the skeleton
of what used to be
now only a fossil
lonely bones laying
unmoving and quiet
where once
the breath of love
inscribed life
into the map
of their hearts

katdish said...

Maureen. Lady, I think you have inspired me to do something similar. Although I'm guessing my poem will be quiet different from yours...

(Which was lovely, btw.)

Anonymous said...

like a whisper
never heard
in time
above her head

Glynn said...

I occupy an interesting place in the TSP poetry jams. I get to see everything as it's tweeted, and then I get to pull everything together and spend time with all of the contributions. Your lines, as the poem above indicates, are a lot of the "glue" that holds the whole together. You move quickly from prompt to prompt; you create and respond quickly.

This time, I saw something else, too. I could see how you were developing ideas, how those ideas were flowing into words, and how you were very focused on the images and imagery of Adam and Eve. I combined what you did with all of the others' contributions, but I could see that what you had done was something special. And I'm glad you "edited yourself" to give us what you have here.