carefully he circled it
the rope in his hands
a burden for him
that tree felt so like home
he chose the second lowest branch
flung the rope over it-
checked if it would hold
sat down to have a smoke
he had made neat packets
kissing each one tenderly
placed those under the tree
save for one, which went back
into the pocket of his coat
having no second thoughts
he held that rope again
and tied a precise knot
a work of beauty-
his last creative work,
and his last thoughts before
life was snucked from him
30 comments:
Why did this make me gasp? I suppose it is because you wrote the perfect poem.
b
http://torristravels.blogspot.com/2009/11/beauty-before-function.html
Beautiful imagery.
Nicely done. I was hoping from the beginning, the rope was not for him.
This was quite a piece to read and very visual.
Deadly beauty much like a sexy worman
I could see it coming, of course, but it was still very powerful.
So well written. the end had the usual punch.
speechless !
Powerful with a great ending.
So beautiful these last moments, then reality takes over...I don't know how you this, the perfect intimate, painful, heartwrenching moment....
Did I mention I missed you?
Powerful. A challenging interpretation of creativity. Well done.
The line "That tree felt so like home" put a lump in my throat when I got to it. I knew what was coming and that just made the rest of the poem more emotional. Well done!
You made the "suicide" of this person a very creative event, it was so visual it took me back to when a friend committed suicide. She tried several times, and each time she was saved. On her last attempt, she put a gun in her mouth and blew her brains out.
As I was reading this most creative line, "that tree felt so like home", I wondered if the gun felt like home to her.
Sorry about this raw emotion your poem conjured up, but so it is with good poetry.
As they say, give a man (or woman) enough rope...
Great one Gautami. Loved it. Thanks for your visit. My photography work has overtaken my poetry in the past year, but now the poetry is coming back.
Amias: I seldom respond to any comment on my blog.
As you must have observed, I write about raw emotions. It might pertain to anything. Actually I had something else in my mind when I wrote this, but it took its own course. Sometimes poetry does that.
I am very sorry about your friend. I too have lost at least two of my friends to suicide and not to forget those students, who too kill themselves. The pain, the helplessness doesn't go away. Never for a teacher or a friend.
There never should be a point of no return. No matter what.
I relate to your emotional poetry, about anything and everything! You are very talented and I enjoy your creativity.
Wow... I had a suspicion where this was going when you started off, and it still just totally floored me. This is excellent, powerful, anguished, astonishing, and so many other adjectives at once. Definitely a unique take on "creativity", and perfectly accomplished.
Was I the only person NOT seeing what was coming? Stunning!
Painfully beautiful.
I hoped he'd change his mind. Nice work!
OMG! ...this is creative suicide Gautami!
held my breath on the last stanza, huh!
great take on the prompt dear!
good morning!
I hate suicide. Your writing is as always, perfection.
wow - awesome writing and a very creative usage of the prompt
Dear Gautami,
The loving nature of how your protagonist prepared himself, the rope, the tree and those who would find the packets. Sometimes there are worse things than a well-thought through death. Maybe a life that is so full of suffering that no light can penetrate.
This was beautifully done. Kudos on your always creative interpretations of prompts...and your life.
after midnight
my solitude
becpmes loneliness
Well, damn. Good poem, though.
Wow, Tami I did not expect this ending. Very powerful. I am sure there were many gasps after reading this great poem.
love, Melanie
amazingly creative piece.
Vast Mystery
Your poem is a very creative take on the prompt- excellently written~
“he had made neat packets
kissing each one tenderly
placed those under the tree
save for one, which went back
into the pocket of his coat”
No callous act, or slipshod work. You have transformed his final act into a graceful thing of beauty.
If one could think of a suicide as a tender mercy, this would be it.
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