Elan Mudrow
Smidgens
Adolescent Tongue
Haze is in our voice,
Wraps the air in orange
Our mouths taste of ash
From heat and dryness
Encircling our throats
We speak through filters
We become speechless
Our voice is smoke
As the sun turns colors
A Pumpkin glow, fluttering
Our talk is like cinders
Composed of dark cumulus
Layers bound inside bark
Released…we become confused
We seek the onshore flow
The lucid linear spoken spell
That quells our child tongue
Who claims immortality
Even if just for a second.
To deny the child
That sparks within us…for
It is us who light the dark.
The moth is eaten by flame….gone
31 Comments on “Adolescent Tongue”
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Elan Mudrow 
elegant piece of writing. Love your concept and the way you connect it with the nature. “We speak through filters, We become speechless”. This line is quite esoteric.
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“The moth is eaten by flame….gone”
This, I really like how this sums up your words.
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beautiful poem
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Wow!
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If it were only surreal. It’s real.
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Captivating image and words Elan.
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That’s a very surreal pic dude! A good poem to go along with it.
KEEP THE LIGHT ON!
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Always, so Fantastically Creative and well executed. 😎😎😎🥀🥀🥀
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Your poem is exquisite. Every word and image of fire and its attributes creates a tight-woven tapestry. I loved the colors of the fire in the picture. I thought the golfers were young boys. “All in the eye of the beholder.”
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The moth… It’s driven to light. Like a guide….
Last line… that guidance is gone. We’re left kind of mindless.
I love your writing. I love that the mind of your eyes can transport us. I love that you can do the same with words.
Love!
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Very appropriate considering the fires that have been ravaging the West Coast lately. Just WHAT are those golfers doing?
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Yes, I’m wanting the rain back as well.
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Wonderful poem, Elan. You described the air, sky and red sun perfectly, as it was here this week. Ash has stopped falling now in SW Wash. and air quality has improved for the moment. No rain though. Need it to wash away the ash! 😕
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The well of creativity constantly bubbling up from inside you is inspiring. I’m learning from your detailed descriptions!
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In Victoria here, we have many a bush fire, and at their worst they are definitely the most scariest events that can happen, and day turns into ashen darkness…
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nice poem
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Thanks. Checking out your blog right now!
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This is beautiful!! New follower here! ❤
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I responded too quickly. During a break at. I usually read your pieces more than once. I always let it soak in first.
Now as for the golfers… It’s just that. I see them first. If I close my eyes and listen to your poem… I can see children playing. The golfers throw me off for some reason. But… that’s the point. Right.
Talk more tonight.
🙂
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Yes! A haze and then some. Had actual ash falling for quite a few days in a row. Hope we are both in for cooler weather soon.
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Another artfully oblique mirror of the human / nature condition. All the planet has to do is sneeze and what we are and what we know is gone. Wind, water, fire. Life and Death. Art and the obvious bliss of ignorance in the infallibility of the ‘system’. The irony is in the seams. “Can’t buy me love, no…everybody tells me so.” But Henry sure loved his new putter.
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Your comment is actually embedded inside the poem and is one of a few themes found inside of it.
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nice poem
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I guess your poetry is loud and robust. Usually it matches my brain. It just took me a while for this one.
Amazing.
I’m comming back to one of your older posts later. I understand now why I didn’t know how I felt about it at the time.
Takes me a while to catch up to your speed babe!
🙂
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Yes, Mel, it’s the irony.
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Yes, there have been more than a few smokey moments in Portland this summer. Plus, it’s been hotter than usual. It’s put people in a “haze”.
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Amazing poetry, imagery, ironic photo. Interesting.
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Not liking the golfers either. Words are powerful. No surprise.
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Wonderfully written poem. Here in Washington we have had more hazy, ashy days than not from distant fires that seem too close. They actually closed the Western Washington State Fair for two days this week due to poor air quality.
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great poetry.. as for the golfers…. nothing unusual there
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Wow
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