Posted in Poetry

Dust & Rubble – a poem

I open my mouth to speak
but all that comes out is dust
and rubble

The storm that crosses the desert
of my words
strikes as lightning
but the remnants are only broken
glass and bits of sound
that no one remembers

The flame beneath the kiln
of these lips heats
a furnace of the unspoken

I wail dry tears and thirsty sobs
expecting that lung-cleansing

©  Jilly’s Poem & Image All Rights Reserved

Posting for dVerse Poetics where Victoria is getting our creativity all fired up!



A wild soul writing poetry.

45 thoughts on “Dust & Rubble – a poem

  1. A nightmarish episode, yes, but a metaphor for the process of introspection, the natural process of a poet questioning their own validity.
    You had me at /furnace of the unspoken/. Your reading of this was, and is,
    splendid–adding to the depth of meaning for your words.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Wow, this really delves into the mindset of a writer who may be faltering in self-doubt or perhaps suffering from a bad case of writer’s block, and sometimes a good scream, both physically and mentally, can help with the frustration. Amazing take on the prompt, jilly!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I love this poem, Jill: the dust and rubble, the ‘storm that crosses the desert of my words’ and the ‘furnace of the unspoken’ – all leading up to the ‘lung-cleansing scream’ – I can identify with that.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. On the west coast of Ireland there used to be a community of screamers and they’d stand on the beach and scream at the sea. I’ve tried it and it’s so therapeutic.

        Liked by 1 person

  4. “… broken // glass and bits of sound // that no one remembers… a furnace of the unspoken….” Yow! A desert walk, dark night of the writer’s soul. All of it perfect and perfectly painful, Jilly! Your poet-voice calling out from the kiln. I wait eagerly for the scream.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. I wonder if as a high school English teacher, you sometimes channel the strangulations of the age — the frustrated combustions of adolescence, the disempowerment of the time. Whatever, there is an explosive sense here of what must be said and how it can’t.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. You speak so clearly and elegantly in your poems (literally too in your audio) that a lack of eloquence does not seem to fit – yet how well you write of it especially in these words:
    “The flame beneath the kiln
    of these lips heats
    a furnace of the unspoken

    Aside from the analysis I just loved the trip through these lines

    Liked by 1 person

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