The conflict between the fire and the wet wood

by Kevin   Sep 11, 2010


Steel knows nothing of swimming,
it's not it's birthright or intention.
Sinking...sure,
diving...clearly.
We're all in the water together darling.

Wood knows little of bullets,
It's never been done successfully.
Arrows...maybe,
spears...occasionally,
it's not like you can't throw it carefully.

I know nothing of you really,
It's not like feeling my feelings.
Stories...remembered,
memories...yeah clearly,
it's not like I don't hold you dearly.

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  • 14 years ago

    by abracadabra

    Here is my comment on your poem, taken from our club. Thought I'd post it here as well because you're an elusive bit of flatus that does not visit regularly.

    Ha, Kevin won't ever edit his poems so I won't bother critiquing it. I'll offer my perception of it though.

    The fire licks away at the wet wood. It wants to consume it, become it, know it through and through. But the wet wood will forever be resilient and impenetrable.
    Such is the way the poet feels towards his loved one. All he has are his images, his perceptions, his stories and memories, his predictions. If he was steel, he'd only know how to sink or dive. He might have heard of swimming, but could never experience it. Same with the wood metaphor. Such are the boundaries that hold us apart and make us yearn, leave us in awe, and keep us in suspense.

    I think the poem needs tightening up. But it is a beautifully abstract and unique love poem.