Most people who leave comments on my blog don't know me at all. This is, of course, entirely my fault, as I never tell them anything about me. And part of me likes to keep it that way, a space in which to be whatever I want without expectation, without consistency (which I've never had). I am really enjoying hearing all the comments from such a rich array of people, who are all so talented and so unknown to me. I also really enjoying writing poetry, and find things are coming to me all the time when i sit down with a space to write in. So to let you in a bit, (if i can flatter myself enough to believe that you may read this), I am going away, moving to a different part of the country, and the poem I have written for this week's poetry Thursday sums up why I need to make this move so badly. As I wrote it I realised how I felt more deeply, and that to me is the beauty of writing my own poems. I am healed by them, made aware by them, cry by them and laugh at myself because of them.
Did I bury you?
Like a bone, savoured for another time.
Shove you under a rug somewhere, a toy,
hide you under the pot outside the front door, my key,
forgetting the dark hole it covered up.
In my sleeping wakefulness you remain
a young girl in a dream.
In those times alive, leading me out to fields a-green,
Only then to die, disappear in a flash,
and the green fades to grey, dull ocean of existence.
Yet still I hold on to you,
my instinct tells me you're alive,
and sometimes I pick up your scent on the breeze.
Which promises faithfully to reunite us one day,
An incoming ship on silent, murky seas.
Because without this hope there is no sense.
Without that brief light there is simply nothing.
My shadow sits here alone, behind a shapeless fence.
Wasting, suffocating, emaciating.
Could it not be that I could come to you
to seek my treasure so lost?
Break free from this apathy, entropy, the cost
of belief in a life without me?
Because life must seek life, is that not true, is that not real,
given only the tiny of chances to do so.
Is that not a fair gamble to take,
When slow death smiling rehearses?
14 comments:
I enjoyed your poem Natalie. That's a powerful opening.
Hope the move works well for you.
Nat – I trust you’ll be taking your computer with you right? This new part of the country has electricity and phones? If so, then we’ll still be graced with your presence? Or are you leaving leaving? I hope not for good.
No, not leaving for good Dennis, computer is moving too. Could never stop writing poetry anyway now that i've started.
She is always within.
Waiting
Watching
Hoping
She is always within.
Good luck with your move and may you find her and free her.
Rose
Wow Natalie.
That first stanza knocks my socks off.
Best of luck with your move - I know how scary and difficult it can be!
This is a very beautiful heart-wrenching poem, and I give you kudos for coming forth and peeking your little toe into the great white ocean of exposure. I also wish you the best of luck with your move, and hope it gives you serenity, solace, peace - all that good, good stuff.
Great staircase pic too.
Hi Natalie. Beautiful and well-written poem, very sad yet hopeful. Best wishes to you on your journey.
I hope it is as you remember, but more importantly, I hope you find yourself.
Enjoy your journey. I especially liked the last line of your poem.
I enjoyed reading this poem. Good luck with your move.
Gee, thanks guys for all your kind comments. I'll remember to write more about myself next time...:-)
Touching the heart kind of poetry.
Good luck with your move.
my post...Straight Curves.
If this is what you produce when you decide to open up and reveal a little about yourself, then I hope you'll mine that source a LOT more in the future. This is really good; that first stanza completely sucked me in.
Hope the move is going/did go well.
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