Mitchell Chmielewski's Blog

uttering goodbye,

not a word spoken.

passing like arthritic memories

into an impassive night.

dull ache,

throbbing in the tender bones

of a lonely soul.

a quiet agony,

written on a pale face

wracked with demons.

each reflection

given a name

and lodging.

a heart

divided,

unable to stand.

torn,

stolen by the wind.

where has that childish abandon flown

to what corner has it tucked itself

within whose arrogant ignorance

mighty walls erected and

fell beneath the pen

faceless omnipotence

god of fact

fiction whose word scarred

paper hearts bleeding

ink upon the page

in whose eye every image was wonder

not closed to mysteries

ears closed to questions

the mind believes

it knows

dust upon the cover

inkwell run dry

scent of old pages

that fish smell of filth

unwashed overripe body

seasoned with pore salt

perhaps it’s best we stop here, parting ways

at the crossroads we stood too long beside.

we know the adage: how gold never stays.

surely, far greater loves than ours have died.

we bear the gaunt trappings of yesteryear,

ghostly figures shambling in plushy flesh,

driven on by stark loneliness and fear.

pitiful beings: the cursed whole zeus twice threshed.

foolishly, we cling to the familiar,

roseate–cascading columns. death grip

knuckles taut around the past. the allure,

the promise of satisfaction–so glib.

shed these years and be reborn anew to

a moment in motion, slipping from view.

blanketed in starless night,

upon the dew-doused grass, he

sleeps without a care beneath

sugar scented maple trees.

no greater comfort is there,

than that which is wild and free;

which unburdens the heart and

soul, which long years made heavy.

the four noble truths

set me down the eightfold path

budding dharma bum

lying on the floor

bedroom dim behind drawn shades

a saxophone wails

This poem was an experiment. I took Robert Frost’s Acquainted with the Night, retaining his end rhymes and sonnet form, then played with it a bit. I wanted to work with the spacing between words and building smaller poems into the whole.

The two lines act as links between phrases (my attempt to show that they are tied into one of the smaller poems.).

I’d appreciate feedback and critiques. I’m trying to break down my work and experiment, so I’d like to hear what works and doesn’t.

Thanks everyone.

the devil’s in the details,

you devious debutante.

your dark dealings,

brought to light,

dare to damage

your position.

daunting as it seems,

this dreadful day

draws drearily

towards a disappointing end.

dapper demagogues declare

their distaste for such

displays,

desperate to distinguish themselves.

don’t despair,

you dutifully upheld

your end against those disgruntled

deviants.

dig in,

dictate what determines decisive victory.

decimate the dolorous masses

who view you with such derision.

you devious debutante,

the devil’s in the details.