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Last Mile Of A Generation

Updated on September 23, 2015

Hunting a pursuit shouldn't be inconvenient
We dwell in an expanse where large imaginings prowl
Issues, atypical in any other era, grind on
Glaciers, engulfing the soft palate of the world
Then melting into bucket-fulls of emptiness,
Those verses bought with the rickety promises of our bodies
Our tears plummeting, mirror sight, from our mouths
Nightmares of sky salt and broken vessels
Weep Belladonna smiles into the cusp of an anatomically incorrect age
We'll find cities only as scenic as the views down their saddest streets
And distances only as far as their last mile.

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    • Ameraka profile image

      Evelyn 18 months ago from Wisconsin

      Lovely.

    • AlexGreenPennStat profile image

      Alex Green 18 months ago

      Nice

    • northweststarr profile image
      Author

      northweststarr 18 months ago from Washington State

      Thank you for the votes of approval Ameraka & AlexGreenPennStat. I'm glad you enjoyed it!

    • northweststarr profile image
      Author

      northweststarr 18 months ago from Washington State

      My girlfriend read this and said the trouble with my poetry is that it's not accessible to the casual reader. People who are poetry readers may get the gist of my work but she insists I need to break down my poems so that others can get better meaning from them. I shall try to do so somewhat here in the comments for those who find me too vague.

      The first thing you might notice about this short poem is its density. Each line could stand alone if it had too as a fairly interesting arrangement of words. This is always my goal. I will try to break it down line by line.

      Hunting a pursuit shouldn't be inconvenient

      (It shouldn't be hard to find something to do)

      We dwell in an expanse where large imaginings prowl

      (Our world is so big with so many wonders)

      Issues, atypical in any other era, grind on

      (the problems may be different then they used to be but they're also the same)

      Glaciers, engulfing the soft palate of the world

      (Problems always seem to be indestructible)

      Then melting into bucket-fulls of emptiness,

      (Eventually you'll find those problems aren't really problems)

      Those verses bought with the rickety promises of our bodies

      (we may not live forever)

      Our tears plummeting, mirror sight, from our mouths

      (but we impact the world around us and our souls live on)

      Nightmares of sky salt and broken vessels

      (bad dreams of stars and death)

      Weep Belladonna smiles into the cusp of an anatomically incorrect age

      (may seem to poison our world but we should smile at it)

      We'll find cities only as scenic as the views down their saddest streets

      (The glass is always half empty)

      And distances only as far as their last mile.

      (The glass is always half full)

      Hope that helps!

    • B Brian Hill profile image

      B Brian Hill 18 months ago

      I liked your poem, and felt the emotions. I am not going to read your breakdown, because your poem speaks to me without it. It captures a strong emotion of loneliness from the world we live in. Your language is vivid and expressive. There is so much here with so few words. And I am glad that you stayed away from the rhyming couplets which seems to be the favorite of many Hubbers. Your style is unique and original.

    • northweststarr profile image
      Author

      northweststarr 18 months ago from Washington State

      Thank you B Brian Hill for your kind assessment. Rhyming couplets have their place but I think I'm also thankful it wasn't in this poem. Honestly I don't like my "breakdown" of the poem much either. It certainly doesn't capture this verse's soul. It was just my poor attempt to make my words more approachable for those who don't have the reading experience to decipher meanings behind my imagery. I think in the future I will not include it unless I have a great outpouring of folks saying that it was helpful.

    • manatita44 profile image

      manatita44 18 months ago from london

      Such exquisite writing! I know only a handful here on Hub Pages who can do something similar. Your poetry is profound!

      Your girfriend is partly right, and Brian is correct from where I'm standing. I liked it more when you did not break it down. Perhaps he is like me and you are like some of the past English and other greats. We are remembered long after we live this life, except by a few.

      No reason to explain our poetry. The esoteric poet sees no reason too, but you will have a small audience, even in spoken word. This is where your friend was right.

      One friend told me once that my poems were so profound, that I should hand out leaflets at open mics. Here's a cute and short story. I have been reading poetry at Cafe's for years! One day a man did some really aweful bad-tasting poetry. The Compere paused for a moment, then said: "Let me bring on someone with a more peaceful vibe." He then called for me.

      So you see, my poetry had affected him after all. Continue ... continue ....

      in Love and Light.

    • northweststarr profile image
      Author

      northweststarr 18 months ago from Washington State

      I'm glad you found it meaningful manatita44! Thanks for your lovely insights.

    • Max Havlick profile image

      Max Havlick 18 months ago from Villa Park, Illinois

      Hi NW Starr:

      Your "girlfriend," no doubt, is a fine person, but friends notoriously make unreliable critics. Hardly any excellent poetry, by any standard, is completely "accessible to the casual reader." Nonetheless, she made an accurate observation about your fine poem (by no means your most difficult one!), to which you responded nobly.

      Your poem itself (to which I'll write separately) makes wonderful sense to me, as it did to Mr. Hill, but unlike Mr. Hill, I also found your explication, as always, interesting and useful, because it makes more visible, so to speak, the person behind the poem, and whatever else you are, you are interesting.

      Your combination serves well the HP community of readers/writers who come with such a wide variety of backgrounds, skills, and interests.

      Max

      Chicago west suburbs, late Tuesday night, Sept. 29, 2015.

    • Max Havlick profile image

      Max Havlick 18 months ago from Villa Park, Illinois

      YOUR DOOR OF DESTINY

      An American Sonnet

      . . . . .

      Inside each tough, perverse predicament

      lies silent, simple-minded wonderment:

      what you may turn into, and be, and do

      is structurally built inside of you,

      the status of the world beside the point.

      . . . . .

      Some weep, some scorn, some laugh, some pray,

      while others dodging choose to play pretend,

      or chase like children every new delay;

      but rush ahead, or pause, or lag behind,

      your heart's desire provides your starting point.

      . . . . .

      Your door of destiny endures unique,

      as individual as you from me,

      and only you can fathom its mystique,

      for only you have access to the key.

      . . . . .

      Max, Chicago west suburbs

      2:45 a.m., early Thursday morning, Oct. 1, 2015

    • northweststarr profile image
      Author

      northweststarr 17 months ago from Washington State

      A haiku for you Maxi ;)

      (written spur of the moment so forgive if it's not perfect.) It sums up what I felt from your poem.

      Genius sparks awry

      My whole life I spend choosing

      to breathe or to die

    • Max Havlick profile image

      Max Havlick 17 months ago from Villa Park, Illinois

      Dear Northwest Starr, my friend:

      . . . . .

      With genius sparks going awry,

      please do not choose to die

      no matter what the reason why,

      or what you feel you need to rectify.

      My finding you in words, delightful;

      my choosing you as friend, insightful;

      my loving you and yours, eternal;

      my needing you alive, essential.

      Please share with me your worries,

      your irritating furies,

      whatever you are losing,

      the reasons for your choosing.

      You always have a home with me;

      I'll come to get you if need be.

      . . . . .

      Max, Chicago west suburbs,

      5 a.m., early Thurs. morning, Oct. 8, 2015

      No strings attached; I mean it!

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