You wait for signs
when days are not
as trenches
of your battlegrounds.
You wait for days
when wildflowers are touched
caressed
by hands and not as weed
with unsheathed scythes.
You wait since
so much of any year is flammable
in icicles and eyes,
when all you have to drink
is sweetened gasoline.
You wait
when graveled in your shoes
are scribbled notes,
of partial lies in dusk
exposed and
shamefully unpeeled.
You wait
for stagnant kindness left behind
as mildewed husks
at dawn.
You wait …
in vain.
Illustration to “A Week of Kindness” by Max Ernst
Today Mary take care of us at dVerse Poetics and want us to use a line from Burning the Old Year by Naomi Shihab Nye.
My choice of line is “so much of any year is flammable”
—
March 8, 2016
Björn Rudbergs writings 
OMG, the third and fourth stanzas! SO good. That picture (and the paragraph below) are cracking me up.
Just utterly superb writing
Dang, Bjorn–this is so disturbing. Waiting in vain, so it seems. Sweetened gasoline evokes the horror.
lovely poem
I see we chose the same line but to very different results. I like the first two stanzas best and the way you build up expectation until we reach the last short line.
Ah, too many days seem to be trenches of battlegrounds! If only there would be more days when wildflowers would be caressed!
That final stanza is like a kick in the teeth, Bjorn, and the ‘sweetened gasoline’ enhances the horror.
Wonderfully written Bjorn… this is a great challenge..and a fabulous poem provided as the prompt. Was immediately inspired to give it a shot as well!
Nothing worse than waiting in vain. By the way, you seem to have an incomplete link for the poem. I was, however, able to find it at http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/178317
Thank you Bryan… I have corrected it now.
WOW, Bjorn! Powerful. You totally nailed it.
The stark ending gave me pause and I specially admire this part Bjorn:
You wait since
so much of any year is flammable
in icicles and eyes,
when all you have to drink
is sweetened gasoline.
Ah yes, one can only hope that the waiting, at some point, bears fruit. Your next to last stanza is killer good. You inspired me to jump on in early; thanks.
Those last six lines are powerful and heartbreaking. Strong images throughout.
Such, a sad write, Bjorn, which made me, want to cry, at the crudity of love, one can endure. Do hope, you weren’t writing, from personal experience.
I love this, especially:
“in icicles and eyes”
Wow, powerful poem.
So powerfully expressed! 🙂
I really like the lingering darkness and doom about this piece. It lurks here. Especially that line about sweetened gasoline. Haunting.
Such strong and sometimes disturbing images, Bjorn. You used your chosen line to good effect. The “sweetened gasoline” made me think of those fire-breathing people at the fairs…and then I saw your illustration…straight out of a circus!
The repeated refrain “you wait” really makes this piece. My favorite stanza is:
“You wait
when graveled in your shoes
are scribbled notes,
of partial lies in dusk
exposed and
shamefully unpeeled.”
What a use of contrast – flammable and icicles! Sweetened gasoline (the very smell makes me sick). Unusual combinations abound in this poem – and stagnant kindness is a very descriptive phrase, I can imagine it well.
Life would be drear indeed if all I had to drink was sweetened gasoline!
A very thought-provoking poem, which left me with a line on which to base a new poem ” scribbled notes,of partial lines “
A perfect line to choose as a jump-off point for this excellent poem. The image gave me a start though – hadn’t expected that. 🙂
You did the line you chose justice for sure! Brilliant as always!
Paked a punch!
(thanks for the advice about a google id for commenting on blogspot. It works well.)
Packed a punch I mean.
Bjorn, this is brilliant writing. Captures a lot of what I feel about these days, these… flammable days. Icicles and eyes, sweetened gasoline, yes. I see the gas, in particular, as our media. Seems to go down sweet, but oooh, the heartburn. Glad to read you again, my friend. Thank you. You make me think. Amy
I think “vain” is secretly “van” and this is really about a guy looking for a new girl to abduct.
Ha.. yes it could be.
I’m sure it won’t be hard. In fact, they’ll probably come right to him — begging for a ride in his van. That’s how hungry girls are for attention.
Oh, it’s also “vein.” Waiting in vein[s].
So beautiful! And we wait….
You chose a great line and executes it well. From the day we’re born we wait… Great work, Bjorn!
hopelessness so well expressed