Loss for Words Options

[Heather]

I used to trust words.

When I was young, words were stones,
some smooth, others with sharp edges
that could catch. We could throw them
at each other, feel the sting, see the mark.
We could build with them- primitive, mad
constructions. A talented few could slide them
across the wet horizon towards forever.

When I became clever, words did, too.
Tricky, with elaborate edges for a puzzle
with no box top but the one in my mind.
Words would hinge together briefly,
as we would glimpse each others’ pictures
and stroke our beautiful chins. I collected
them, boxes and boxes of other people’s words
just to run my fingers over each ticklish edge.

So much so, this addictive pawing polished
the sides smooth and back to stone.
Creamy and flat, they no longer inspired
complicated creations or the need
to cause a cut. Each one lovely, all subtle
vein and hue, I searched the surfaces to catch
myself in that cool reflection. I sat firmly
on the large, duller ones and absorbed the heat.

Sometimes I think I loved them too much,
that I wore them down to pebble, and they are falling
through the cracks. But no,

they are vanishing just beyond my grasp,
these constant companions turned out to be
clouds-now a rabbit, now a unicorn.
They were never something I could hold.

That was just the light-play as this long cold river
slides on past.

[Psyche]

Love this, Heather. Can't find much to nit, just maybe ask some questions. Highly original. I like the analogy of words with stones and pebbles!

I used to trust words. <<<<<Good beginning!

When I was young, words were stones,
some smooth, others with sharp edges
that could catch. We could throw them <<<<<not sure about 'that could catch'. I feel as though something were missing there. Or perhaps another word for catch. Maybe 'scratch, tear, injure'? Just sayin'...

at each other, feel the sting, see the mark.
We could build with them- primitive, mad
constructions. A talented few could slide them
across the wet horizon towards forever. <<<<<do you mean flipping pebbles over the water?

This stanza brings back memories...as kids, we used to throw stones at each other, when angry or maybe playing. Kids can be cruel, too, with a bunch throwing stones at the outsider...nowadays they may use guns. But hurtful words were common, also. We used to build whole 'towns' with mud and pebbles...LOL

When I became clever, words did, too.
Tricky, with elaborate edges for a puzzle
with no box top but the one in my mind. <<<<<<Love this.
Words would hinge together briefly,
as we would glimpse each others’ pictures
and stroke our beautiful chins. I collected
them, boxes and boxes of other people’s words
just to run my fingers over each ticklish edge.

Wonderful stanza. Imaginative, indeed.


So much so, this addictive pawing polished
the sides smooth and back to stone.
Creamy and flat, they no longer inspired <<<<<<Creamy stones? I suppose you mean the colour, but it sort of makes me stumble.

complicated creations or the need
to cause a cut. Each one lovely, all subtle
vein and hue, I searched the surfaces to catch
myself in that cool reflection. I sat firmly
on the large, duller ones and absorbed the heat.

Complicated, but I think I understand where you're going.

Sometimes I think I loved them too much,
that I wore them down to pebble, and they are falling
through the cracks. But no,

they are vanishing just beyond my grasp,
these constant companions turned out to be
clouds-now a rabbit, now a unicorn. <<<<<I think you need a space after clouds, maybe: 'clouds... now a rabbit, now a unicorn.
They were never something I could hold.

You have a mixture of tenses in the last lines. Perhaps this person realizes that the pebbles/words were never something he/she could hold, even as a child.

That was just the light-play as this long cold river
slides on past. <<<<<different word for slides on? Slides is used above, but that's not a problem. Here there's a redundancy.

Hey, Heather, there are several layers of meaning in this poem. A kind of metalinguistics you've captured wonderfully. I'll have to return to see what others' have to say.
Great work. Syl

[greenwich]

This is a very compelling review of the use and effect of words from thrown stones to over used polished surfaces.
The ending is interesting, shapes in clouds such as rabbits sounds like Edward Lear on some opiate expedition. Have words had this power of change?

[Eisa]

Hi Heather,

I am enjoying discovering the layers in this one and bringing back childhood memories.

A few comments between the lines

I used to trust words.

When I was young, words were stones,
some smooth, others with sharp edges
that could catch. We could throw them
at each other, feel the sting, see the mark.
We could build with them- primitive, mad
constructions. A talented few could slide them
across the wet horizon towards forever.

L3 catch - perhaps scratch might be more descriptive
L6 - perhaps 'glide' instead of 'slide'

Brings back childhood memories

When I became clever, words did, too.
Tricky, with elaborate edges for a puzzle
with no box top but the one in my mind.
Words would hinge together briefly,
as we would glimpse each others’ pictures
and stroke our beautiful chins. I collected
them, boxes and boxes of other people’s words
just to run my fingers over each ticklish edge.

Wonderful stanza! I really enjoyed this

So much so, this addictive pawing polished
the sides smooth and back to stone.
Creamy and flat, they no longer inspired
complicated creations or the need
to cause a cut. Each one lovely, all subtle
vein and hue, I searched the surfaces to catch
myself in that cool reflection. I sat firmly
on the large, duller ones and absorbed the heat.

L3 cream sounds better than creamy

Sometimes I think I loved them too much,
that I wore them down to pebble, and they are falling
through the cracks. But no,

they are vanishing just beyond my grasp,
these constant companions turned out to be
clouds-now a rabbit, now a unicorn.
They were never something I could hold.

L3 perhaps:
clouds ... now a rabbit, now a unicorn.
(love cloud watching!)


That was just the light-play as this long cold river
slides on past.

I feel slides is perhaps a weak word to describe the river. The ending should be memorable.

I've really enjoyed reading this, Heather.

Eira

[Critter]

Hi. Good use of extended metaphor. There is a lot here, maybe too much in a way and maybe too conversational but the work is consistent in that regard so I will just make some in-line comments.
I used to trust words. excellent opening

When I was young, words were stones,
some smooth, others with sharp edges maybe just 'some sharp'
that could catch. We could throw them two "coulds"
at each other, feel the sting, see the mark. good line
We could build with them- primitive, mad
constructions. A talented few could slide them
across the wet horizon towards forever. great line, love it, I would consider stopping after "horizon"

When I became clever, words did, too. great concept
Tricky, with elaborate edges for a puzzle
with no box top but the one in my mind.
Words would hinge together briefly,
as we would glimpse each others’ pictures
and stroke our beautiful chins. I collected all good
them, boxes and boxes of other people’s words I like the metaphor here
just to run my fingers over each ticklish edge.

So much so, this addictive pawing polished
the sides smooth and back to stone.
Creamy and flat, they no longer inspired
complicated creations or the need
to cause a cut. Each one lovely, all subtle
vein and hue, I searched the surfaces to catch
myself in that cool reflection. I sat firmly
on the large, duller ones and absorbed the heat. I like the way the metaphor is developed and deepened

Sometimes I think I loved them too much,
that I wore them down to pebble, and they are falling maybe "sand" for pebble...even "clay" or "silt"
through the cracks. But no,

they are vanishing just beyond my grasp,
these constant companions turned out to be
clouds-now a rabbit, now a unicorn.
They were never something I could hold.

That was just the light-play as this long cold river
slides on past. nice ending, this takes me back to the "wet horizon". This is good, perhaps some tinkering with some of the 'small' words which would enhance the richness it has. Good work, just my initial reaction, take or toss.