That was intense. I read it thoroughly twice. Wow. So many perspectives really. Information and yet cryptic. His life was full in so many ways from everything I've read of yours about him. Tragic, human, artist--a fascinating person he sounds like he was. I was particularly struck here about the female influences and characters. A beautiful piece, Zivah.
Beautiful work! I love the rhythm of it and the pace. The words pushing down, the weight of the world on his back. It feels like the poem’s straining under its own weight too. Love it.
I knew out of the gate this is a poem about your dad. This part here:
“until he found solace in grey blue eyes
eyebrow arches, a fleeting smile
and the seeing of his soul
fingers itching to tell her story in charcoal”
At first I thought this was referring to your mom. But after reading a second time and mentioning teen-age a couple lines after, I’m wondering if it’s you growing up.
Thank you! It was about my mum and also me, in a roundabout kind of way. I like to make it a little ‘choose your own adventure/interpretation’ sometimes. My dad still loved my mum until he fell ill and then died. He would tell me that quite often. Not quite star-crossed lovers, but circumstance and immaturity getting in the way. She’d have been a stabilising influence on him, but I suspect she didn’t want to parent her husband as well as her child.
Heartwarming, especially after reading the note at the end. Beautiful lines, Zivah.
Thank you so much, Luis.
Wow, Zivah. This is so fucking beautiful. Your first three lines gutted me. Gorgeous writing 🖤
Thank you so much!
That was intense. I read it thoroughly twice. Wow. So many perspectives really. Information and yet cryptic. His life was full in so many ways from everything I've read of yours about him. Tragic, human, artist--a fascinating person he sounds like he was. I was particularly struck here about the female influences and characters. A beautiful piece, Zivah.
Thank you. I think I’m going to spend the rest of my life, trying to understand who he was, in one way or another.
Beautiful work! I love the rhythm of it and the pace. The words pushing down, the weight of the world on his back. It feels like the poem’s straining under its own weight too. Love it.
Thank you so much!
I think this is one of my favourites of yours. So many great lines even in isolation, but the way they flow and weave together was brilliant.
Was this a piece you submitted to a contest?
Thank you! No, it wasn’t submitted to any contest.
You should!
Thank you for your support!
I knew out of the gate this is a poem about your dad. This part here:
“until he found solace in grey blue eyes
eyebrow arches, a fleeting smile
and the seeing of his soul
fingers itching to tell her story in charcoal”
At first I thought this was referring to your mom. But after reading a second time and mentioning teen-age a couple lines after, I’m wondering if it’s you growing up.
Love the pieces on your dad, Zivah!
Thank you! It was about my mum and also me, in a roundabout kind of way. I like to make it a little ‘choose your own adventure/interpretation’ sometimes. My dad still loved my mum until he fell ill and then died. He would tell me that quite often. Not quite star-crossed lovers, but circumstance and immaturity getting in the way. She’d have been a stabilising influence on him, but I suspect she didn’t want to parent her husband as well as her child.
The repetition of 'again' - you're a genius.
This was...it brought out all the feels for me.
Thank you - that’s very kind. I hope the feels treated you gently.