Ulysses

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We are not now that strength  which in old days

Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are,

One equal-temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

--- Ulysses by Alfred Lord Tennyson

The Tightrope Walker

 Tightrope Walker by Everett Shinn

The poem I've worked on (actually there's two of them) is supposedly a poem of a character I'm working on for my story. I've mentioned this before and I gave it a thought, whether or not it's worth putting on my blog and realized, it is. Not because it's great, but because I want to. And so I looked up a photo of "tightrope walker" and stumbled on this haunting painting from the 20s by Everett Shinn with the same title. Though my tightrope walker (also the title of my poem) is performing for an old American circus, probably sometime in the 40s I'd say, this painting is definitely a beautiful representation of what the poem could paint in your head. And of course, just look at it, it's an amazing painting. So, I just had to use it for this entry...

Anyway, here it is, my The Tightrope Walker...

The Tightrope Walker

I'm balancing a long, bending stick in my hands

as I shake along with the rope.

If I do break a sweat, I would-but I have so little of time to bother.

Behind me the setting moon...up front, the rising sun.

I'm a tightrope walker, the world my audience.

I keep mum, try my best to keep balance,

to be strong and guarded from the winds...

But you grab me from the crowd and for the first time,

I've felt a walker for one...

Still the sun ahead and the moon in the past,

I'm walking for you now, despite the world watching,

despite time flying...

My fear now is not so much of falling,

of failing to meet the sun while it's still there.

I fear that when I do fall, that when I do reach the sun, you'd be gone---

Bored out of your wits.

I'm sorry it's taking long, I'm sorry I've been here for ages,

but don't you see that I'm balancing,

walking

and pushing

for you?

I'm way past the middle, you're still in the crowd and the world gasps...

Will I make it before you leave?

And will you find me in the crowd when this tent's down...

When we're all just ordinary people

instead of tightrope walkers and spectators? 

---G. Gotladera

We

...stars across Jupiter...

It's a simple slide of the hand

a brush against the cheek

and we both take it like it's natural.

We bend like flowers pulled by ocean water

with flesh as the promise to keep.

It's an easy Hello

that means something like stay with me, longer

but never forever.

We spin into each other like stars across Jupiter

with collision as the future.

They know us as separate souls

with not one thread that ties us together

and we can't blame them, cause they know nothing

about what we are and who we are.

They know us, but know so little.

They know me without you

You without me.

But we know no one else

but you and I...we.

And here we go, like fires fusing into one

losing yourself to mine and the other hot way around.

Now, we've set apart

strangers braving the night, with upturned collars and half-seeing eyes

of only shared, solitary nights as memento.

Let's keep us our darkest secret...

And when Judgment day comes,

they'll know what we are apart

and who we were together.

-Gerard Gotladera