A Turbulent Mind

Jo Bryant

darkness shrouds the bleached square
my mirror image like the inside curve of a wave,
dishevelled
slashes of silver, running, spiralling together, complex,
to raise the dourest of spirits
your incessant babble flies over the ground
no sound, no imprint in the earth,
I see the moon begin to rise

a city shimmers, moonbeams bouncing into the air
no tender traits, yet a softness under the night sky
dust flows upon the earth,

fog circles a clandestine realm
each face a portrait of home
keep your thoughts inside
flailing to gain silence,

before the sun rises
thoughts light the surface
gives way to its zenith,
smaller pinnacles of molten fire under my skin prickle
a deep pain

my turbulent mind bursting into the open,
crouched,
a flaming light springing luminous scarlet and gold,

spreading a dreadful screeching.
gusts of air knocking me
my rage is palpable,
I have failed you tearing at me,
I am falling,
an intense cry reaches into my heart,
slows its beating
its echo waits to claim me.

This is a ‘redactive poem’ taken from a chapter of my own work. I chose to leave out the ‘erased’ parts which many do leave in. Here below is a screenshot of what my page looked like.

Screen Shot 2014-02-22 at 8.31.01 AM

Published by Jo Bryant

I was born in the land of Banjo Paterson, gum trees, and weather extremes. I am a freelance photographer. I love to make images that make people happy. To capture forever a precious moment. I am also a freelance writer/editor. I live in the Bay of Plenty, New Zealand, but still like to claim my Australian heritage. I graduated with a Bachelor of Communications in 2008. I am writing my first novel. I love to write poetry, short stories, and also write for the web. And there is nothing that is on a par with a sunny summer's day spent at Waihi Beach.

29 Comments

    1. Thank you Sylvia. It is actually a ‘redacted poem’ from my novel. I have had trouble getting involved with it. So I decided to try any way possible to get caught up in it again. I am going through the chapters and…erasing parts of them…trying to reduce each chapter to a poem. Maybe this will work to get me involved in it again. This was from CHAPTER 1.

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        1. No…not this time, but one nightmare I am actually working on. It was all about death [a person, rather a good looking person actually], and a train taking me there.

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    1. Now Gilly…what will you say when I tell you it is a redacted poem from The Novel ? Apparently redacted or erased poems are quite the thing, but I struggled with using someone else’s words. My way around this was to use my own. And I gave the whole use everything and show the blacked out piece the flick…looked silly to me.

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        1. That would actually be rather a novel idea Gilly. Maybe do a swap with someone. It would be interesting to see what another person would pick out in comparison to what you yourself would pick. Want to give it a go ??? I could send you another chapter…let you pick out a poem. I could do the same…see where we end up. Interested ????

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          1. Goodness, I’m really very flattered Jo, but your standard of writing and editing is way above mine, and that’s not just me poo pooing my work, you’re very experienced. Plus I can only write very simple poetry. It’s tempting but I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.

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  10. Very impressive Jo!! That random words picked out of a novel can come together to form such a powerful, evocative poem is mind boggling to me!

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  11. I wasn’t sure it would work. Especially as it was so unlike writing a normal poem, where you begin with an idea you want to convey. This just formed itself, which was both grand and unnerving.

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