“I have owed you this letter for a very long time-but my fingers have avoided the pencil as though it were an old and poisoned tool.” - John Steinbeck
The New What’s Going On blog has set as its theme the double whammy of “Unspoken -or- Unwritten”. Here is my take on something that one would have preferred to have remained unwritten… A break-up letter is perhaps the worst thing one has to read and in many cases one would rather that it remained unwritten. My offering, is a blank verse translation of a Greek poem I’ve written, that has been set to music.
The Ink
Black ink, white paper,
A letter that has been written
Opened many wounds
And gave me great pain.
Words like knives that stab,
Words like sticks that beat me;
Paper spread white like a shroud
Stained black by the ink.
You left me and you took
The sounds with you,
Music will not play any more.
Surrounded by four walls
My heart is now broken.
You left and wrote me a letter
Your love was a false specter.
My life is now inky black
All your words were lies
Covering all like a white sheet
Leaving only my loneliness exposed.
The ink spills all over my future,
Blackening all, wounding me,
All my pages now black,
All my gifts to you given in vain.
You left one night like a thief,
And now I wander alone;
You made so many mistakes
You were in the wrong,
But I still smell your perfume.
You left and wrote me a letter
Your love was a false specter.
The Greek poem is set to music, and you can find all my music in my “Otidorchestre” channel or listen to it on YouTube, Spotify, Amazon, Deezer, Flo, Pandora, and other music sharing sites.
The New What’s Going On blog has set as its theme the double whammy of “Unspoken -or- Unwritten”. Here is my take on something that one would have preferred to have remained unwritten… A break-up letter is perhaps the worst thing one has to read and in many cases one would rather that it remained unwritten. My offering, is a blank verse translation of a Greek poem I’ve written, that has been set to music.
The Ink
Black ink, white paper,
A letter that has been written
Opened many wounds
And gave me great pain.
Words like knives that stab,
Words like sticks that beat me;
Paper spread white like a shroud
Stained black by the ink.
You left me and you took
The sounds with you,
Music will not play any more.
Surrounded by four walls
My heart is now broken.
You left and wrote me a letter
Your love was a false specter.
My life is now inky black
All your words were lies
Covering all like a white sheet
Leaving only my loneliness exposed.
The ink spills all over my future,
Blackening all, wounding me,
All my pages now black,
All my gifts to you given in vain.
You left one night like a thief,
And now I wander alone;
You made so many mistakes
You were in the wrong,
But I still smell your perfume.
You left and wrote me a letter
Your love was a false specter.
The Greek poem is set to music, and you can find all my music in my “Otidorchestre” channel or listen to it on YouTube, Spotify, Amazon, Deezer, Flo, Pandora, and other music sharing sites.
You have expressed this so well. I especially admire "Your love was a false specter." Everyone can relate to these emotions. The saddest of letters to receive.
ReplyDeleteOh, Nick! this poem was a gut punch. I really feel it. So painfully true. I was especially moved by the words "You left me and took the sounds with you." This reminded me of someone who left me ("like a thief") years ago. I moved on...eventurally....but it still sometimes bothers me because I really did not know the reason why and they did not say. It was the unknowing that was so painful. I am so glad to see you back again!
ReplyDeleteI love "you took/ The sounds with you/ Music will not play any more." That's beautiful as people do have a sound and we can form a harmony The last line is strong as well Sometimes the tension in the music is too much. Took me some heartbreaks to find the right one :)
ReplyDelete"The ink spills all over my future"
ReplyDeleteAh, if only it were unwritten, if only it could be unwritten, if the letter were not true. Hurt is palpable.
Or they weren't lies when I said it. But then I found out X X X and didn't want to make things worse?
ReplyDelete"My life is now inky black
ReplyDeleteAll your words were lies
Covering all like a white sheet
Leaving only my loneliness exposed."
I love this poem, Nick. I think of an over exposed photo.