Images in Glass

Chain the door, begin the work.
claim the moment, exclude the world.

Every effort made to capture
the reality of faded memories,
to refrain from embellishing
upon scenes he relishes.

Swells and spray of ocean fury,
plant on a window sill.
Powerful trigger of emotions,
situations of gravity.

Glass was his medium —
broken, cracked, crushed —
flakes of color in the flicks
and brittle grittle of the grind,

placed by hand, selected
and spread with care. No gloves,
shards and pieces picked from
fingers serving to preserve humility.

Broken.

Broken. (Photo credit: justanbaca)

For the Sunday Whirl Wordle. These words did not flow. I tried desperately to force them into submission.

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19 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

19 responses to “Images in Glass

  1. This is so pretty:
    “Glass was his medium –
    broken, cracked, crushed –
    flakes of color in the flicks”

    Oh my, what a perfect and painful ending:
    “No gloves,
    shards and pieces picked from
    fingers serving to preserve humility”

  2. Favorite lines:
    “Glass was his medium –
    broken, cracked, crushed –
    flakes of color in the flicks
    and brittle grittle of the grind, . . .”

    I love these sounds, especially the hard consonants, and even more so, “brittle grittle of the grind.” So nice! Good poem.

  3. My image of you is causing fits of laughter. You with a whip and chair, shouting “I said, third stanza, not fourth.” And “I put you in an image. What are you doing?”
    I like where you are going. Pick the phrases, lines and stanzas you like, chuck the rest and try without restrictions, that’s if you like the possibilities. I love the third stanza which seems the most whole, if that makes sense.

  4. I love the fragments of glass that you describe…his medium…well written Mark!

  5. I felt an urgency in this poem…..beautifully written and unique

  6. Janet

    I’m cheating and reading before writing. I think you did a great job! My mind is drawing a blank as i look at them! ‘fingers serving to preserve humility’ I love it!

  7. The words didn’t drive the poem, they enhanced it! I would probably have left out the plant on the windowsill, it seems a bit tame surrounded by the emotion and flow of the rest of it. I couldn’t cut and grind glass in gloves anyway – you need the sensitivity of fingertips to know when to stop. Your use of grittle is perfect! The best of the Wordle 65 bunch.

  8. This is gorgeous writing, Mark. You tamed the words well. Your piece runneth over with great images. I love it.

  9. Nice, Mark! And, like you, I’m often stubborn to use all the words. However, I’ve limited my stubborness to only that, as I change the word endings to fit. (If you’re going to re-work anything and still want to use all the words, maybe you could use plant as a verb somehow in the opening stanza…to plant oneself in front of a task kinda fits with chaining the door.)

    Regardless — I enjoyed your piece.

  10. There are some very good lines in this poem, Mark. I think you’re beating yourself up for no good reason. I like it.

  11. Well I thought of a Stain-glass artist hard at work in his studio…but then a second vision passed through of a scientist putting together forensic pieces to a glass puzzle trying to solve a mystery – but that person would most likely be wearing gloves of some kind…so I’ll stick with the artist.

    Nice use of the wordles. Very creative…did you have the beers first? 🙂

    I’m here:
    http://julesgemsandstuff.blogspot.com/2012/07/sw-wordle-65-evening-odds.html

  12. I’m with Misky on this Mark … but then, aren’t we all our own worst enemies? At least that seems to be the way with me anyhow … always tearing down when I should be doing the opposite … there is much to commend here, a richness of imagery – I hope you don’t toss the whole thing!

    http://thepoet-tree-house.blogspot.it/2012/07/on-perils-of-villa-cimbrone.html

  13. The sound in this really grabs me:

    “to refrain from embellishing
    upon scenes he relishes.
    Swells and spray of ocean fury”

    Great word choices.

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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