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
scream
© Jilly’s Poem & Image All Rights Reserved
Posting for dVerse Poetics where Victoria is getting our creativity all fired up!
Jilly's 
This sounds like a nightmare…now I am intrigued to see what’s on in the dVerse pub tonight. Too early to check in here yet.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I look forward to your take on the prompt and for some reason, I can hear the Pointer Sisters singing in the background 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh fun….
LikeLiked by 1 person
I read this as an extended metaphor expressing that place I’ve been, that arid desert that sucks dry the words to put into a poem. I enjoyed your sensitive reading, as well. Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Spot on, Victoria!
LikeLiked by 1 person
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.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great analysis; thank you!
LikeLike
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!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you! I recently found the words ‘lung-cleansing scream’ in a magazine. I clipped the phrase and stuck it on the bathroom mirror for pondering.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Inspiration comes from everywhere, doesn’t it? 🙂
LikeLiked by 2 people
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.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Funny thing, Kim, we were discussing where a person can go to have a lung-cleansing scream and not alarm others. Perhaps on a boat 9 miles out to sea?
LikeLiked by 1 person
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.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oooo – I like it!
LikeLiked by 1 person
The fire is such a strong metaphor for all wrong than can happen, and I do think that we went to the same place of what’s left in the wake of a fire… both for real and when the fire is a metaphor
LikeLiked by 1 person
I agree and I noticed those similarities. Thanks!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well you are clearly describing a time you are not experiencing; this poem is killer, girl.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you! Decided to wallow in the writer’s block and work it 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Dust dry. The aftermath.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This was wonderful Jilly… “a furnace if the unspoken”, love it… 🙂
LikeLike
“… 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.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, Charley. As do I. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oooh! Nice one. I love ‘the lung-cleansing scream.”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Mother Nature is always a great metaphor for writer’s block I think!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Wow. That worked! Maybe not intentional, but I was struck by the ember in “remember”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Nice catch! I’m afraid I must credit the subconscious crazy child for dropping that in there. Thanks!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Fierce imagery and pathos, Jilly! Great write!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Lots of powerful language and images here. I think you did a bit better than rubble! Particularly liked “a furnace of the unspoken”.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love your imagery of dust and rubble. The kiln firing words unspoken…very nice!!
LikeLike
I liked this, especially,
“The flame beneath the kiln
of these lips heats
a furnace of the unspoken.”
I felt the pent up emotion waiting to be released.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks! And congrats on your Vita Brevis publication 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. Vita Brevis a great supporter of poetry.
LikeLike
What FiReS A HeArT to: SPeaK
MuSiC Of SoUL From:
A SoNG And DanCE to: SPiRiT
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂 Love this!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks For Your
Inspiring
Poetry!..:)
LikeLike
love your reading Jilly, i feel the aridity of barren uninspired moments, you don’t need to use the word fire for me to feel the burns from your poem.
LikeLiked by 1 person
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.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I liked the phrase about the furnace of the unspoken and the cleansing scream.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love this Jill, and your reading is wonderful.
LikeLiked by 1 person
There is so much more than what we manage to express. I especially like this: “The flame beneath the kiln of these lips heats a furnace of the unspoken”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love your phrasing in ‘the furnace of the unspoken’, and that incredible last stanza. Came so close to nightmares I have had, and continue to have.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks!
LikeLike
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
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much!
LikeLike