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Poetry / The Life. The Hero. The Life.
The sun rises. The life begins.
Heikki held in his hands his head.
Flying forcefully, not forwards
but backwards. Beating bravely,
his heart harbored thoughts.
Eventually, evacuating every single one.
His life, not lavish nor lament-filled,
but grace-given, gorgeous, guiltless.
Full of fierce fires formed by
light spectrums. Simply ceases
and flashes on his final forlorn moment.
Memories merge, muddled images
become beautiful. Building boldly
inside. Instances indicating his
Happiest highs filling holes
Where woe once was.
The patch of good stitching the bad.
Childhood crossing, courageously crossing,
from Finland finally finding
settlement. Season of summer
pausing in Portugal’s port.
Living like lone people do
Feeding from friends he found.
A dog digging diving desperately.
Finding food. Befriending.
Heikki, who wore
the same suit sitting silently
on the beach buying nothing, burying.
in Portugal, played patiently with
three kids there with
a mother. They mostly moaned
and complained carelessly.
They did not deserve his help.
He helped. His heart
was pure. Preaching
about much… mostly mothers.
He had history like theirs.
Single super mother solely.
Never knowing his numerous
words were true. When
he held conversations in hopes,
they’d think nothing.
These thoughts of bad boys, though, did not
appear. All astounding all good.
Fighting for what he ferociously
believed. Being born. Being free.
Flying from Finland to Phoenix. For a
new life. Like losers finding life liberating.
He set his handsome fort. It had hard
walls where the family would be safe.
He had the right to go home. However,
he stayed and the mother was safe.
The eldest, education sought.
The two twins traded parents took off.
The Mother.
Heikki her love. Her hue had
caused commotions causing a war.
“She should not teach” said the people.
Heikki, her right hand held his position. He
protected her passionately protesting
this wrong ringing inside his
skull. Staring at the sky.
“Come with me Ana, look at the sky.
I will never be free after what they accused me of.
I shall never see the sky.”
The red rose right after the sun
went down drowning in the earth.
Digging. Bones. Turtle bones.
Dead Birds. Dying dog.
She left to see something: her children.
He protected patiently proudly, the fort.
The day dozed off digging deeper. Bones.
Flesh froze. Cold Night. Forceful poundings.
Door burst. Being bullied. Blatant.
Stone stealing his soul.
Rock ramming. Not resting.
Skull seems so safe.
Bloody boulders. Born to die. Beat by man.
Not killed. Clearly alive.
Cats crying. Dogs Dying.
Beat. Beat. Beat. Skull. Skull. Skull.
Blood and Flesh. Blood and Flesh.
He protected, taught, loved
a family he had hardly known. Not his.
After sounds stopped, he stayed.
He did not move. He protected all.
The six dogs Esae, Simu, Timu, Amadeus, Max, Savannah.
Three cats Katja, Otto, Klaus.
The fort the things.
“No! He defied death. I will not let you
take them. I will not let you
take Ana. Take me instead!”
And so death diverted from Ana
and her illness, insecurities, cured.
Heikki slept the night soundly.
Just like the song but instead of whisky and rye.
Vodka. Singing ”This will be the day that I die.”
His image recorded right before death loomed over
Pushed him off, his hands held his head.
His shattered skull from his last battle, broken.
Corner of the stairs are waiting. Cutting into his brain.
Shattered skull from before. Cutting into his brain.
As the corner hit his innards his life had
No woe or wantonness. Where was he going?
The holes where the bad once was.
All stitched together in that last second.
All. All. All. Stitched. Stitched. Stitched. Good.
Needles of time. No concept of Time. No concept of bad.
Eternal bliss for his good. The good outweighed the bad.
His death. His death. His death. Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
Dog.
Cat.
Burning Turtle no longer burning.
Turtle bones no longer there.
Snapped bird necks all back in place.
Diseased dog no longer hurt but young forever.
Malnutriotioned kittens grow into fine cats.
Three boys, not of his blood, but his sons.
Ana. Ana. Ana. Ana.
Nothing bad.
Ana.
The sky.
Ana.
The boys.
Ana.
The mom.
Finland. Ana.
The beach.
The friends.
Ana.
The boys.
The mom.
Standing with the mom staring at the sky.
Ana.
The sky.
The setting sun.
Purple, Orange, White, Blue, Aura
Saguaro, Tundra, Desert, Snow
Arizona, Finland, all one place.
Does it matter?
Home.
Home with Ana, the mother.
The setting sun.
Ana’s face. The mom.
The mom’s kiss.
The setting sun.
Heikki held in his hands his head.
Corner of the stairs…secretly waiting.
Contact.
Shattered skull.
Brain waves down.
The life of Heikki.
The sun sets.
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jakespatz reviewed Version 1 -
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OVERVIEW
This piece has more potential than faults, and with some rewriting it could improve substantially. Consider breaking it into smaller units, and presenting it as a sequence; it’s already halfway to that point, and the poem currently gains very little by the “one life = one piece” idea.
FORM
You have some mild successes with the verseform, and its effect is more cumulative than local, but you have to stick to it and maximize it as a tool. Your enjambed lines (“Heikki, her right hand … held his position. He / protected her …”) stray from the form by inserting an extra break in the hemistich (half-line). Also, spacing the hemistichs is kinda cheating, because it makes it LOOK like you’ve hewn closer to the form than you really have. I’d read the piece aloud, mark where the form does nothing, and decide whether to revise or cut those portions.
Also, try to vary your use of alliteration a bit more, using sounds mid-word as well as opening consonants. See Ezra Pound’s translation “The Sea-farer” for some examples.
WEAKNESSES
If you’re just piling up words, you lose the reader. I don’t want the names of six dogs, unless those words create a rhythm. Likewise, I don’t want a movie (“Flash. Flash. Flash.” etc.) when I’m reading a poem. Don’t try to copy a different art.
Also, there seem to be several spots where you refer to a private memory or story, without giving the reader enough background detail to keep up. Segmenting the poem into a sequence may help clean up these parts.
STRENGTHS
You do seem more focused on the subject than on your sentiments about it, which is the poem’s chief excellence (and also what makes it a more suitable tribute).
Give me more of the subject. The encounter with the three kids seems to be the poem’s real core: centralize that, heighten it, frame it, cut out anything that interferes with it, and you’ll be on your way to an improved version.
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anji13 reviewed Version 1 -
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This poem struck me right the heart. I am sorry for the inspiration, if it can be called that, for why you wrote this. The lines, “Full of fierce fires formed by light spectrums. Simply ceases and flashes on his final forlorn moment.” work so well. The idea of life simply ceasing really made me pause and think.
This is a piece i can read over and over. i like the rythum of it and the structure, one i have not seen often.
As i read this i kept thinking of a friend of mine who was murdered several years ago.
Your work is beautifully written and powerful.
What i got from this was it seems like the final stretch of drifting last thoughts. The stream of consciousness. i am not sure of that was what you intended but it works so well here.
i dont think it is at all vague.
even though the idea of comparing life to the rising and setting sun is common, you used it well here with just those simple lines.
“The life of Heikki.
The sun sets.”
This was the first piece to actually make me cry, just because of its closeness to things i used to think about when my friend died…what were his thoughts and such.
Thank you for posting this. I loved it.
Billinnlr reviewed Version 1 -
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This is a most unusual read. I enjoyed the content but not so much the style. I will say that for someone only 18 yo, you have huge talent and I really look forwards to reading more from you.
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