Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Bad poetry, aka where I'm at--the part-time, part-self

Neither this thing
Nor that

Clumsy

Start and stop
Once washing then rewashing
First thought, second thought, third thought
Gone
Only inferior
Interior fragments
Survive

Childish things around me
As I bend low to remake them
Into order
And fail

Brilliant literature
A distant galaxy of stars
The light filters
Low and late
But I'm looking down

Trapped by a shiny plastic immediacy
My mind grows mute, weary
And finally
Silent
Stunned into sudden wisdom

I am ridiculous

Selves thrown careless in every room
Under unmade beds
Not wholly mother
Nor writer after all
Insignificant and shamed

I trace smaller and smaller circles
No one will ever see

Labels:

9 Comments:

Anonymous beansprout said...

Beautiful...absolutely beautiful...hoping you continue to find these words to express how you are feeling. Stay in the struggle. I see you.

4:02 PM, October 04, 2006  
Blogger wendylou who? said...

I agree with bean spout. Stay in the struggle. You speak so well. I see you too. You have been a fav for a long time. You are heard.

I also admire you ability to speak in voices (thru your short stories) other than your own.

You are a writer. Keep going.

5:40 PM, October 04, 2006  
Anonymous fern said...

I loved this, as usual. I'm sorry you're not feeling like you're not able to commit fully to your writing. Be gentle with yourself, you are doing a wonderful job as a mother AND a writer.

10:29 PM, October 04, 2006  
Blogger Colorsonmymind said...

Ooh I love that last line smaller and smaller circles.

XOXO

11:09 PM, October 04, 2006  
Blogger Alexandra G said...

Its a very lucky few who haven't felt that way at times. A beautiful and painful poem to read. What it evoked for me are the times I have felt like I was disappearing or just felt so, so unseen. I think far too many of us women have painfully traced those circles feeling achingly invisible and insignificant. I wish all of us lived closer, on some sort of blogger commune smack in the middle of a great city like Portland, so whenever any of us were feeling terribly alone or alienated or just plain discouraged we'd all be closeby. Hang in there with yourself and this chapter in your life, and do keep writing and reaching out.

12:00 AM, October 05, 2006  
Blogger deirdre said...

I have to agree with everyone - you're an amazing writer. You are both writer and mother. And we see you.

9:32 AM, October 05, 2006  
Blogger la vie en rose said...

...you see and that's enough...and by sharing you words you let us see too...such a wonderful gift

2:31 PM, October 05, 2006  
Blogger Jessie said...

Although your poem captures your feelings with crystal clarity...there is one part that, having met you in person, I'm not sure is true:
"Not wholly mother
Nor writer after all"

From what I've seen, you are both. Fully. Completely. Give yourself a little credit. ;)

love you,
j.

10:31 PM, October 05, 2006  
Blogger Sarge said...

I shake the dust from my shoes,
the desert has no boundries
and even this little hut
is the desert, rocks and sand
collected in corners near windows
made brilliant by the sun.

I scratch at my tired skin,
I miss my friends.

You said that civilization is sirens
and ads in Missed Connections,
here there is only silence
and I wonder what to make

of the small family of birds
I saw yesterday, what do they drink from?
Where do they go?
I can hear all the sounds of this house.

3:32 PM, October 06, 2006  

Post a Comment

<< Home