A2 /monday morning



the king, wrapped in a crimson cloak
and i at 6 a.m. on a swiss highway, (i’m–
wrapped in weakness by the way) and oh,
he knows,

rain pours down, i’m weary &
frayed heavily on thin-worn hems,
seems odd somehow, the week

seeps into me, an infusion,
freezing cold & i feel small between

the mountains, windscreen wipers and the
heavy breathing of my soul (actually it’s
the heater)

so i frown & feverishly

knead my lips, search for a song to
cut the night but there’s just silence, dripping
slowly from my tongue, along my hands, runs

down my arms, forms tiny rills amidst
the droplets on the rainy pane and finally ends up
between the glistening puddles on the road–

the street lights gleam like fen fires in the mist
& i’m alone, i–

check the rear view mirror but–
just shining lines of cars behind me and i smile,
what else did i expect

.

are you up for another OpenLinkNight at dVerse Poets Pub? today the wonderful hedgewitch will tend the bar for us – OpenLInkNight means a pub full of cool people and wonderful poetry…so hope to see you there when we push the doors open at 3 pm EST

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71 responses to “A2 /monday morning

  1. smiles….nice write claudia…i love the playfulness there at the end…you build the tension and then give us a big old relief there in the end….that king is making his way around this week…smiles. the silence dripping slowly from your tongue is hot too…

    • I agree, Brian! tried to comment on your blog but it wouldn’t let me. I wish you well, Brian!

      love the imagery Claudia. A wonderful write!

  2. Monday morning blues and we feel we’re alone all by ourselves on the highway. I get that feeling. Worst when it is cold and damp outside. ‘the silence dripping..’ nicely put.

    Hank

  3. You pierce through to my own silence and touch that alone place we all have. Your words are so special, so real. They make me just sort of settle in to your poem with a sense of safety, comfort, familiarity and that little tension life does not escape.

    Always love reading your work.

  4. I love how you and the car and the experience are all tightly interwoven–I saw a scary movie years ago where a lone driver kept seeing a face looking in his car window in the night–ugh! This reminded me of it, despite your much more pleasantly prosaic ending. An excellent mood piece–I think we all feel that fray on our hems these days.

  5. Very vivid, accessible and real. One of the poems one immensely enjoys. (Appreciate the others’ comments, that allowed me to understand the reference to the King.)

    I love how your skill with language places us on the scene. Excellent work!

  6. ‘the king, wrapped in a crimson cloak
    and i at 6 a.m. on a swiss highway, (i’m–
    wrapped in weakness by the way) and oh,
    he knows’

    great opening stanza..I really like the way you are part of everything around you, and it is all part of you, yet still you are separate, despite the ‘seep’ing in…

  7. Road-meditations can be a form of oneiromancy via landscape … seeing deepest within by scanning the entire vista without. This poem sings that way to me, at least. Nice job. – Brendan

  8. Even boredom, monotony and silence is sensuous in your hands. You experience the world with your whole body and are able to translate the experience into words. It reminds me of how Brian Eno is able to write/perform songs about silence. An amazing gift.

  9. Oh, this grabbed me up and held me through the end.

    “heavily frayed thin hems’…..excellent imagery applied in the most succinct way.

    A haunting piece, dear Claudia….a sharp and haunting poem.

    I felt myself melt into it, and this doesn’t happen too often. I had no resistance to your words.

    Lady Nyo

  10. Claudia, great write, some exceptional lines in here, and love the enjambment through out, you are awesome at pacing- really am in awe of the way you structure your work. Thanks again

  11. some interesting images here, starting with :the kind” made me wonder, is this going to be about Elvis? about some Monarch.

    then I really liked “thin-worn hems” i’m wondering what you meant by that, if it’s the same as what i’m thinking (a dress that’s too long, and the hem is worn down?)

    street lights gleam like fen fires in the mist -> like a scene in a movie

  12. It is amazing how your thoughts take you to these places Claudia…. You are just amazing…… a beautiful, beautiful write once again……..
    The breath of your soul, which is just the heater…… amazing…..

  13. …eigentlich ist es die Heizung! …*grins*
    …ich habe richtig mit gefühlt…kalt…Regen…Scheinwerfer…müde…
    …ja, was erwartet man im Herbst, um 6 Uhr morgens, zwischen den Schweizer Bergen?…(könnte auch Sonne und Farbenvielfalt sein)…

    …deine Poesie prägt sich ein…”ThousandSwissTunnels” ließen mich lächeln, als wir die tausend Tunnels passierten, vor ca. vier Wochen…

  14. Oh how I love reading your words! I always get images of Marlon Brando in my head when I read your stuff. Hope you don’t mind. Must be the voice I hear when I’m reading.

  15. these lines resonated with me… i know this silence…

    knead my lips, search for a song to
    cut the night but there’s just silence, dripping
    slowly from my tongue, along my hands, runs

  16. Know this feeling quite well.. from yesterday..something must be in the air this day because I have read many a poem about loss, melancholy, loss, etc..

    well done Claudia..

  17. I love the music in this, Claudia:

    ” silence, dripping
    slowly from my tongue, along my hands, runs

    down my arms, forms tiny rills amidst
    the droplets on the rainy pane”

  18. Been down that road myself, Claudia. Too many times. You describe it perfectly, but with fresh images and impressions that are just so….Claudia!

  19. I am pleased to learn at the prodding of your poem that the A-2 forms Switzerland’s main north-south axis from Basel to Chiasso, and traffic jams can slow things at the St. Gotthard Tunnel — in a pass that has been an important trade route since about 1200. There also my be slowness at the Sonnenberg Tunnel, which until recently was the world’s largest nuclear blast shelter.

    But I’ll confess I am baffled by “the king, wrapped in a crimson cloak.” Is it Father Christmas?!? LOL

  20. My monday morning this week was like this too, so I can really picture it and relate to the feelings. I love how you convey the feeling that you are still getting into the week (“seeping”) and this weather doesn’t seem to make it easier — it’s almost plain miserable and too cold to begin with. 🙂 I love the end because it connects the narrator to a greater — and she’s not alone. That makes me smile too. Enjoyed this very much. 🙂

  21. I wish you could hear me in my usual applause for your wonderful artistry… i so admire your way, Claudia.

    Wrapping up in that crimson cloak this week. Thankfully it’s large enough for all of us. Smile and a hug.

  22. freezing cold & i feel small between

    the mountains, windscreen wipers and the
    heavy breathing of my soul (actually it’s
    the heater)

    This image really resonated with me since we lived in Switzerland for 4 years and returned there this summer for vacation. I could relate with the mountains…the cold at times…the feeling of being hemmed in. Although it is the most beautiful place I’ve seen it’s easy to feel “small”. LIked the breathing of my soul/ heater line….made me smile.
    Thanks for stopping by my place tonight..glad it led me to you!

  23. the search for a song lines hit me the most – driving on a rainy night with no music? Inconceivable lol!
    Beautiful imagery – you put me right there on the road with you.

  24. yes, a flicker into your mind… a torch turned on… quick arc around the scene..inside and out.. a wry smile and off.. love how you do that.. some truly memorable phrases, but this my favourite:

    the week

    seeps into me, an infusion,
    freezing cold & i feel small between

    the mountains,

  25. Great into…he in a crimson cloak & you in weakness…(and he knows??) oh my. good word play here.

    I feel for this person …the speaker… not romantic…more existential…on the A2. freaky.
    Kinda like claiming your existentiality in East L.A.

    I’ve read a few of your poems now, and you have an interesting style…different, unique unto your own. it’s good. I’m enjoying them. keep ’em comin’

    thank you for your poetry.

  26. When doldrums, sadness, loneliness blankets I think it’s a bodily response to seek sound, conversation or music and yet these days I feel like I’m dripping in silence too. Your choice of words always so descriptive, creates that traveling sense of anxiety. Really well done, Claudia.

  27. Perhaps we are in the same plane. This is how I feel during my hour commute each morning, the timing coinciding with the hour that the bars close. It is a lonely trip. No body is made to be alert and singing at 3 am. Weary, that’s a word not used lightly. Brilliantly captured and oddly makes me feel less alone.

    Beth