A quickie!

No, not that kind! This isn’t that sort of blog! Sheesh.

While taking a break from my novel-writing, I thought I’d share a few poems I’ve written. I’d refer to my poetry skills as “eh”, but the majority of the poems I’ve completed hold some special meaning for me.

untitled

I kissed the concrete

and a thousand heartbeats

pounded against my mouth

(We died together down here.)

But who thinks of death

when you’re thinking of

your morning coffee and

collecting change for the subway

and what to make for dinner that night?

He kissed her goodbye this morning

was all he could smile about

as he said his goodbyes from

the belly of an airplane

and fell into the flames of freedom.

 

I am here, I am silent

A mother in a conduit

A daughter in a murky lie

I am here, I am silent

Screaming your name

And bouncing off the steel

That you used to

Hide my limbs

In pieces

In the plastic

That held

Our daughter’s crafts

That were never

Quite good enough

But you scraped them

From the darkness

And put me inside

And told her

I had left her

While you

Kissed her on the head

And I sucked

The cinnamon

Of her skin

And the things

She once held

The Fear

My heart made use

of the knot in my stomach

to lasso a ring around my throat.

It clawed its way

beneath my tongue a while,

a slow tempo

that caught no attention.

 

It hid there,

barely beating,

until the knot gave slack

and I took it back

as an apple,

an easy gulp,

like a snake swallowing an egg.

 

Aaaaaand, we’ll end this post with a bit of mushiness:

 

Timelines

I navigate the

stretch of road

between us

with precision.

Dips and grooves

keep me out

of daydreams

before I diagram

the constellations

I’ve memorized

in his eyes.

Passing Parker, Marilyn, some New York City chic

that lingers just before his home,

my home,

the place my beating heart lies.

 

Feedback is much appreciated. Back to the novel.

 
Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I’ve a call.

“Lady Lazarus”

Sylvia Plath

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4 Comments

Filed under Writing

4 responses to “A quickie!

  1. Great post today. I really enjoyed reading it very much. Thanks again for sharing.

    Please read and share – A Day at the Park

  2. I loved reading your poetry. I’m often not so good at reading poetry because I like to see that there are layers to open, and feel the language so exquisitely that I want to go searching for those subtle meanings. When I get tangled and uncomfortable (with the execution – not the subject), the poet loses me. You didn’t.

    The first one broke my heart. Your angle of approach said a lot to me, as I come out of my own feelings about this past weekend’s remembrances.

    “I Am Here, I Am Silent” will take me more readings to digest. I’m not sure if I’m reading differing points of view, but I feel much emotion in the words –of leaving, being left, and perhaps someone in the middle while two are jockeying for position… a sort of family struggle? I am intrigued by the images you used, and want to take more time to try to understand them.

    “The Fear” speaks to me. I like the images you use to describe that feeling I know so well.

    And “Timelines” doesn’t feel like mush to me. I kinda think of mush as trite or too much. (If so many of us want to love and be loved, why are we so reluctant to read beautiful poetry about the feelings involved? Sometimes it feels like we have to wrap them up in music to hear them as often as we do.) I loved this one! I was a tiny bit lost at the end, only because the last bit isn’t a sentence (at least it didn’t strike me as one, after repeated readings) and what came before was set up as sentences. Was this a conscious choice? I hope you don’t mind me asking. I realize there are probably many poetic forms that I know nothing about. (I don’t write poetry often but when I do, I go mostly by my guts and little else.) The main point is that I still loved the last part, even if it did stop me for a moment.

    I hope this was helpful to you in some way. I know that I would prefer clumsy feedback to no feedback at all. But If I was clumsy, it would be a kindness if you let me know. (Did I just ask for feedback on my feedback? 🙂 ) The point is I don’t want to offend.

    • No offense taken at all – I deeply appreciate your feedback, in any form! It means a lot to me that someone – especially someone strictly across the internet – would take the time to look so far into the meaning behind my writing. But, I suppose that is the sign of a true writer and lover of the art, so again, thank you. 🙂

      The first poem, as you obviously recognized, came after the 10th anniversary of 9/11. I worked that Sunday night, and normally after a long and frustrating day, I barrel through the front door and talk my boyfriend’s ear off, ranting about something that bothered me. But as I walked in, I immediately noticed the show he was watching on the History Channel, and sat down in silence. I didn’t breathe a word for the next 45 minutes, and had tears in my eyes the entire time. Every time I watch the footage from that day, it takes me right back. And the show itself was from the POV of a few survivors, all of whom happened to have their cameras on them that morning and filmed the entire thing; the reactions of normal people, thinking it just another morning. I couldn’t even imagine. (Sorry, I started rambling here!) Hence, the subject matter of this poem. And while I’d hate to break anyone’s heart, I suppose it got the point across, lol.

      As for “I am here, I am silent”, the idea for this poem came to me through my love of the macabre, that’s for sure. And although I wrote it under the impression that it was going to be one POV (that of the mother that was murdered), I do love that poetry can be interpreted several different ways, depending on the reader. I wrote a poem titled “The Revenant” (about a friend of mine that passed away), and it was two-columned. Well, in one of my poetry courses, some of the class read it top to bottom, some thought it was meant to be read left to right – and somehow, both worked. I thought that was really neat (although I originally intended for it to be read from top to bottom). I’ll have to post that one and see what you think! Anyway, with most of my poetry – and the same goes for “I am here, I am silent” – I write the piece sort of literally (at least in my head), then go back and see what kind of images start to take shape on their own. Again, it can be interpreted any way you choose, and that’s what I love about it. Once you form a more solid opinion, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this one. 🙂

      “The Fear” truly speaks for itself – and I’m glad you could relate!! I’m sure many people know that feeling. It’s the worst.

      And thank you, for not feeling that “Timelines” was mushy. I do the same thing when I write poetry – I go with my gut. And I agree: if we all wish to be loved, we should enjoy reading about it! And I admit, I do love a good LOVE poem. I don’t pay much attention to any specific form (unless it’s been assigned to me). Honestly, I don’t think that last part being a little “off” or abstract compared to the rest of the poem was a conscious choice. That last bit was definitely personal, a part of the piece that no one else could understand (Parker and Marilyn are names of 2 streets I would pass when my boyfriend and I first met, and I would be driving to his house almost every day). So, the setup wasn’t a conscious choice, but the personal touch definitely was. It made it a little quirky I suppose.

      Your feedback is extremely helpful – while I appreciate the oohs and aahs I receive from friends and family, nothing compares to the opinions you get from a fellow writer (same goes for anyone in any artform!). Thanks again. 🙂

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