PoemTrain - Brother

davidf Supreme Member Offline I love YaBB 1G - SP1! Posts: 1158 Joined: Oct 25^th, 2007	Re: Brother Reply #2 - Jul 11^th, 2013 at 1:17pm	Print Post
	Joseph, Having had similar symptoms, I can totally relate. ~Davidf


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nas Supreme Member Offline I love YaBB 1G - SP1! Posts: 9444 Joined: Sep 11^th, 2006	Re: Brother Reply #1 - Jan 18^th, 2012 at 1:03pm	Print Post
	Hi Joseph Sad, angry and emotional piece. I liked the start where they are both in their different places separate but I didn't get what they did under that bridge as the picture in my head was that they were standing there and I did lose interest a bit towards the end. Quote: I am writing to you from where the airplanesare, each one of us sitting in terminals passing at approved heights. I wishing that our hands were still clasped in that fraternal way, brother. This verse doesn't quite make sense. I wonder if you need "I am writing to you and where airplanes are" Perhaps: As each of us sit in different airport terminals and pass at approved heights, I wish our hands were still clasped in that fraternal waym brother. I call you my brother still despite the forty years of slow betrayal. As it is translated, from truth to lies as you now translate history the wind tearing vowels from phrases reducing sentiment to sound. I think I get what you are trying to say here but it feels a little muddled as if you found it hard to translate the thought to words (a problem I often have). I like the idea of tearing vowels from phrases but as a whole the verse doesn't quite say what I think you mean. We were once in the darkened plaza. We were speaking in passion and hope. <<<--try to use the verb actively - we spoke with passion and hope building the monument that the you have to the future and you were the hero (my hero?) We were building the monument that the young have to the future and you were the hero. I knew you would achieve much and I knew I would not. but tonight, that night <<do you mean tonight and that night? or just tonight in which case that night is redundant we were equal under the bridge the proof of the great dream of America sharing the night under the bridge. It was our shared joke, our irony, our insolence. We did not know that above us the sky had grown gray. We did not know thethat English speaking police would spray our vision orange. They would blame us and it was much later where we shared would share the bitter joke when you blamed me but we didn't know that then how could we? They said that we were trampling the rights of students to study that we were trampling the rights of those who were not protesting. That we were trampling and the rights of the majority. What was unclear, was that we were those students. <<--delete full stop or We thought we were them Now, over forty years later, gray, my life a series of piles, past events and deeds jumbled in disorder and dismay. My arm trembles and still I search out that sure grip of your hand. As if you and your hand would remember me and seek the clasp. But, now you say I am not your brother, and <<--full stop I the transgressor clumsily fold my hands. Yet it is neither bitterness nor sweetness I see you flit from flowers of social media to branches just under the ripe fruit. I knew I could see one day into the future. I could see how you would achieve and I would not. <<--this just repeats and I don't think is necessary It gets a bit too prose-like from here on, more of an outpouring of hurt than poetry. I would like to see the brother's rejection and the contrasts between their two lives But I confess it was not clear that confused night that my hand would be taken from me. My lips taken from me, my eyes taken from me, my ears taken from me. Forbidden to write, to speak, to hear or to see, that is cruelty, as you well know. It did not occur to me that for the one moment of pure belief that I would pay so much. I no longer need the collection of refined civilization. I have seen the sterner nature of our human form. But, I have seen the value of our poets bled of vision, truth, voice, and action. It is just I did not believe all those years ago that it would come to this. I did not believe that on that one night that you would be the one to show us the delicate stiff yellow whip. Tidy, woven in wood and cored with lead. No one will ever forget, Brother – no one left alive. Now none left alive but me the secret is safe, brother. My troubles are small. All I want is this: To be left in solitary because; I still believe I still want to clasp the hand in solidarity. Brother, brother of mine I still believe. Sorry, ran out of lunch hour. Work demands my attention.


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josephfinkleman Topic Starter Full Member Offline Posts: 396 Location: Sacramento, CA Joined: Sep 7^th, 2005	Brother Jan 17^th, 2012 at 1:11am	Print Post
	I am writing to you from where the airplanesare, each one of us sitting in terminals passing at approved heights. I wishing that our hands were still clasped in that fraternal way, brother. I call you my brother still despite the forty years of slow betrayal. As it is translated, from truth to lies as you now translate history the wind tearing vowels from phrases reducing sentiment to sound. We were once in the darkened plaza. We were speaking in passion and hope. We were building the monument that the young have to the future and you were the hero. I knew you would achieve much and I knew I would not. but tonight, that night we were equal under the bridge the proof of the great dream of America sharing the night under the bridge. It was our shared joke, our irony, our insolence. We did not know that above us the sky had grown gray. We did not know the English speaking police would spray our vision orange. They would blame us and it was much later where we shared the bitter joke when you blamed me but we didn't know that then how could we? They said that we were trampling the rights of students to study that we were trampling the rights of those who were not protesting. That we were trampling the rights of the majority. What was unclear, was that we were those students. We thought we were them Now, over forty years later, gray, my life a series of piles, past events and deeds jumbled in disorder and dismay. My arm trembles and still I search out that sure grip of your hand. As if you and your hand would remember me and seek the clasp. But, now you say I am not your brother, and I the transgressor clumsily fold my hands. Yet it is neither bitterness nor sweetness I see you flit from flowers of social media to branches just under the ripe fruit. I knew I could see one day into the future. I could see how you would achieve and I would not. But I confess it was not clear that confused night that my hand would be taken from me. My lips taken from me, my eyes taken from me, my ears taken from me. Forbidden to write, to speak, to hear or to see, that is cruelty, as you well know. It did not occur to me that for the one moment of pure belief that I would pay so much. I no longer need the collection of refined civilization. I have seen the sterner nature of our human form. But, I have seen the value of our poets bled of vision, truth, voice, and action. It is just I did not believe all those years ago that it would come to this. I did not believe that on that one night that you would be the one to show us the delicate stiff yellow whip. Tidy, woven in wood and cored with lead. No one will ever forget, Brother – no one left alive. Now none left alive but me the secret is safe, brother. My troubles are small. All I want is this: To be left in solitary because; I still believe I still want to clasp the hand in solidarity. Brother, brother of mine I still believe.


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