found and lost

/ joanna

I pass my days floating
low in the clear waters of
late summer’s heedless oblivion,
skin warmed by a sun whose
heartbeat is never quite strong
enough to burn the winter
out of my soul.  Caged by salt-
streaked bones lies a conscience
both weak and heavy, waiting
while my eyes scan ever
the horizon, searching
for a truth they won’t recognize:
I was not meant
for paradise.

47 thoughts on “found and lost”

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  9. Thanks Gaurav; I’m flattered. 🙂

    southernmusings, it’s been far too long since I paid you a visit; must get there soon. (Before Fall, hopefully 🙂 )

    Always a pleasure Rev Bill; and you’re completely right: undefined yearning runs through all too many of my thoughts these days…

    Thanks for stopping by, Jingle, and for putting together these Rallies. Such a great way to get to know the work of fellow writers!

    Prepuzio, you’re welcome here any time!

    ciao 🙂
    jsl

    Reply

  12. “enough to burn the winter/out of my soul.” perfect summer weather. I can not agree with you. Perhaps it is my Caribbean blood but I am definitely meant for paradise. All depending if you believe your paradise to be sandy beaches or snowy icebergs. Some people function better in vacations instead of residing in paradise. Either way it was a great read.

    Reply

  16. Thanks Imagina, art. Always a pleasure.

    Kavita, Jessica, frayed: you cut right to the heart of it–the last line was meant to be the heart-stopper, the bitterness in the dregs 🙂

    splash–snow or sun, it can be taken metaphorically. glad you liked it.

    peace
    jsl

    Reply

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  21. buttercup, Joanny: you are too kind; so glad you enjoyed.

    Purvi, welcome! glad this found some resonance with you, and i’ll be stopping by your own site to check you out soon!

    ciao
    jsl

    Reply

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  36. OF all of your poems I’ve read so far, I think this is my favorite. The way you evoke such a subtle but important judgment on yourself steps so slightly you wouldn’t bend a dry leaf. The way you communicate sadness is tragic, and I mean that as a compliment.

    crb.

    Reply

    • sadness as tragic–I couldn’t possibly take that any other way than as a compliment! I’m thrilled that you’ve found time to look around here, and I want you to know I’m itching to do the same over at your place.

      Reply

    • noxy,

      let me say first that i’m forced to be brief here due to technical difficulties, but i just had to risk a quick remark.

      i tried several times to put this up as a comment to your piece, but for some reason it kept giving me an error; please consider the following as a response to your not-so-feeble attempts….

      that you created this as a response to one of my own pieces totally made my day. 🙂

      i like that it seems to meander like the river itself; even the line breaks reinforce it. and i love your artery/vein/capillary tangle; love. it.

      be back by your place later!

      joanna

      Reply

  38. oh my, this is exquisite!

    the final (self) judgement is so tortured and so like it stepped right out of my own mind … i related so much to this, every line a quintessential piece of beautiful agony …

    thank you …

    Reply

    • Thanks, Blaga. I like this one a lot, too. Seems you’ve been going through the archives– I can’t wait to see what you come up with for the final interview. 🙂

      Reply

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