doorman

Dec 17, 2009 ⭐ View statistics (Premium feature)

The track

The neighbor's sour apples to steal, a black dog's

teeth, long tongue drip, the sun baked incessantly,

lost control, blinding, singeing tips of green bleak,

while ants with grains of rice built nether nurseries

The gate ajar, a horse race was announced far away,

the race, our want, the searing heat was always there,

beyond the iron fence, past our outstretched point to

where we are now,- and with burnt hearts we descend

Crumbling books, smoldering treasures of late regrets

— doorman, Dec 17, 2009

About This Poem

About the Author

Country/Region: NOR

Critiques

Kailashana

16 years 5 months ago

Your poetry evokes something

Your poetry evokes something I can't quite put my finger on, but somehow I am nonetheless, consumed. ~A

doorman

16 years 5 months ago

Thank you for taking your time to drop by, Anna. I was wondering if you could give your opinion on the ending of this one. I added ''moldering treasures of late regrets'', being a little concerned that ''crumbling books'' alone would be too, I don't know, ambiguous, perhaps? But, I have slight feeling the addition gives the write away somehow. What do you feel or think? Yours, Espen

Kailashana

16 years 5 months ago

I am humbled that you ask.

I am humbled that you ask. As a teacher of Advaita, I see how it works both ways. Without the "moldering" treasures of late regrets, one is left to his/her imagination. With it, one feels the "something evoked" that I alluded to. However, imo, Espen *Smoldering treasures of late regrets" would seem to bridge the two. What ya think? and yours truly, ;-) ~Anna Don’t let your victories go to your head, or your failures go to your heart.

doorman

16 years 5 months ago

My thanks to you, dear

My thanks to you, dear Anna. ''moldering'' does have some decay in it, which the embers of a smoldering fire does not have, perhaps more of a 'continuous warm decline'. I like that, and I'll take it. I had to look up Advaita, or 'nonduality' as it was translated. A smile sprung to my face,- my initial idea for the title was 'Dharma', (but ended with 'the track' by my childhood home), as I like to flirt with these things. Seems I've met a teacher now. I just find these coincidences refreshing. Thanks again, Yours, Espen.

Kailashana

16 years 5 months ago

I LIVE for these *refreshing

I LIVE for these *refreshing coincidences*. One might call them serendipity. It proves that the universe IS a benevolent place. ~A p.s. Nor is your identity *doorman* without merit, eh? Don’t let your victories go to your head, or your failures go to your heart.

Ink Dragon

16 years 5 months ago

Hi Espen,

this is a beautiful description of remembered summer days (?), and your last three lines add yet another dimension. I adore the end of this poem, especially "and with burnt hearts we descend/Crumbling books, smoldering treasures of late regrets". You seem to come back to the apple theme a lot of late. Any particular reason? What do apples mean to you? (Just sticking my nose where it doesn't belong, feel free to ignore these questions if they are too personal.) Yours, ~Nina

doorman

16 years 5 months ago

Remembered summer days,

Remembered summer days, indeed. Thank you for reading the write, Nina. I had a handful of different lines for the ending, none which entirely pinpointed what I wanted to explain. This one comes close enough, but there's a word in between longing and regret I'd like to find. 'Savn' is the Norwegian word, which translates into a sort of deep, heartfelt lack. Norwegian has deep roots in German, but I don't know if there's an equivalent,- 'Entbehrung'?. Nonetheless, I'm truly pleased you adored the ending. And apple, well, it's one of those words that fits just perfectly in the grip of one's hand, see? I don't mind you prying, but be warned,- you might find something... Yours, Espen.

Ink Dragon

16 years 5 months ago

Beware of snakes bearing apples...

a deep heartfelt lack? In German we might say "Sehnsucht". That would be "longing" in English... but I think you portrayed that feeling very well here, Espen, no need to spell it out. Yours, ~Nina

Seren

16 years 5 months ago

Dear Espen

Magnificent write ... *big smiles* love and hugs Jayne

Nordic cloud

16 years 5 months ago

And that is often the essence of a poem isn't it?

Savn = longing, deep longing, or Longo's malinchonnia (probably spelt it wrongly 'scusi) Italian, that's the best one but there's melancholy too, slightly different in all the languages as such words are; they even mean different things in different counties of those countries like the norsk rar= rare or odd or strange- or even barmy (amusingly mad)!!!! not insane and so and so and so the game of translating goes on and we end up with interpretations of ideas instead of direct translation, such is life too, do we always understand even plain language as each has his or her interpretation? And that is often the essence of a poem isn't it? Oh the poem where you have put together those sounds and impressions in a collage of words and meanings that evoke such imaginative thoughts in our minds, you fair stir the dust Espen of the outdoors and indoors. Have you seen that sculpture in the Astrup and Fearnley gallery in Oslo, where there are piles of books on shelves in metal of some sort, your poem is more evocative of decay and moldering-smoldering old books for me. Great fun this one Espen. Love Ann in Norway