Kite

[Saturn]

This is my first poem for many months, perhaps well over a year so I apologise for the crudity.

Kite
Tattered, bruised, broken
Was how I saw you first -
Seemingly irrevocable.
You had been dragged,
Shattered and split apart
By ill use and hard wear.
Every bush and briar
Had piereced with thorns
Your fragile, slender frame.

You were flimsy and tender;
Recklessly throwing shapes
In the indifferent breeze.
You flirted and bumped
With all the clouds
That came your way.
It seemed you'd never fly,
Never reach the heights
You were destined to reach.

With care, and a lot of love
We took in hand this wreck
And repaired the damage,
Patched every wound.
The scars remained
But the shame was less.

It was a labour of love:
I was protective of you
And sought all means
To maintain the care,
The nuturing I'd spent
To give you a chance
To one day fly again.

When it came it was
Unexpected...

The cord was in my hand
The wind was too strong
To hold you back
From riding the storm.
I feared it was too much,
Too soon to test
Your new-found strength.

I held my grip firmly
But you were too
Determined
Too eager
To fly.

Now I look to to the sky,
My hand still grasping -
Looking every so often
To see from the midst
Of the weathering storm
A glimpse, one last look,
Before you finally decide
To sail alone the skyway
And leave me holding
Nothing but the ends
Of a once close bond.

[Despondence]

Very nice....makes one wonder about the real story behind

I guess this belongs better in the "quotes" thread, but your poem reminded me of a piece of lyrics from a few years back:

"I'm a kite on a silver thread.
Daring lightning to strike me dead.
Harsh echoes of things you said
banished me to a thinner space
with unholy ghosts of your bedroom face.
Hands cupped to my ears to place
the sound of circular breathing."
(Ian Anderson, "Circular Breathing")

[Saturn]

Very nice....makes one wonder about the real story behind

Is it that obvious?

I guess this belongs better in the "quotes" thread, but your poem reminded me of a piece of lyrics from a few years back:

"I'm a kite on a silver thread.
Daring lightning to strike me dead.
Harsh echoes of things you said
banished me to a thinner space
with unholy ghosts of your bedroom face.
Hands cupped to my ears to place
the sound of circular breathing."
(Ian Anderson, "Circular Breathing")

Is that THE Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull fame?

[Despondence]

Very nice....makes one wonder about the real story behind

Is it that obvious?

Lucky guess
(plus, knowing you a little by now..)
But it's better not knowing of course, then the metaphor keeps its mystery and allows the mind to explore the possibilities without being burdened by facts .

Is that THE Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull fame?

Indeed - actually, that particular album, "The Secret Language of Birds" is a very poetical and lyrical one that I can warmly recommend.

[Malia]

Thanks for the poem, Saturn. It holds a sad, poignant resonance. Interesting use of the Kite as an image, too!

[Credo Buffa]

I concur with Malia. The metaphor is great

[Saturn]

Thanks guys - I don't really think that much of it myself but it was something I [almost physically] had to write, felt compelled to write because of a recent personal circumstance.

My earlier work, when I used to write every day, is much better I think - look in other threads in this section to see some better stuff if you're interested.

Sadly the Muses have deserted me of late