It's the worst at night
when everyone has went to bed
and morning drags itself in,
dead weight, through my window.
I am the loneliest soul
on the planet then,
my bed sheets scream humiliation
without another body to the space.
I dance my humid skull
into hysterics and think
and spin my words
weaving them into wind,
eye lids hot and puffy
unable to shut or shrug you off.
How unfair is the want
and the need to be loved
when more often than not
the feeling is hardly mutual?
It's unusually calming, though
my consciousness lost in waves,
embodied and washed up on the rocks
and I don't quite care if I'm saved.
All will be reflected either way
in a mirror image of me
and so it's always the same culprit
with the same hungry stare
gambling with limbo; stripped bare.
Comments
1 - 9 of 9
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I like how this poem starts. I like the way you describe morning as dragging its self in, as though the very sun is reluctant to shine; as though the day is reluctant to begin. It portrays the way you perceive things; the way you see the sun and the new day, as we all know that such things are, in reality, indifferent.
And in this sense the first stanza acts as a mirror; an externalisation of your emotions, a projecting of them into nature and having them reflected back at you in the drudgery of a new day, and in the face which you put upon the sun. It's as though the new day plonks its self upon your floor, a 'dead weight', and says, 'Well, here I am. What are you going to do with me?' A very poignant image, Kristin.
The second stanza is very indicative of your need for company at that period of your life. It shows that you somehow feel 'humiliation' at an empty bed, which I'm afraid I do not understand. But, these are your feelings, not mine, and they are expressed well.
The poem after this gets really good. Words like 'humid skull,' 'hysterics' and 'spin' convey your feelings in a wonderfully vivid way. The stanza gives the impression of a fever, and I like the way you integrate wind, words and 'weaving' into it, which is a subtle reference to astrology. The next stanza is a simple question, but it is intense in its short simplicity and its relevance to humankind, and sad in its connotations.
In the next stanza you again bring nature into the frame. I don't know if waves is another astrological connotation after wind, but it still presents a primal impression; that of being lost in the soup of existence and creation, of being swept to and fro by the currents of life, and of not caring where they take you. It tells that you are feeling 'washed up' and defeated, apathetic and despairing. But still, the word 'quite' insinuates its self, suggesting that perhaps there is still an inclination to live; to survive, no matter how small such an inclination is. Its presence is telling. Incidentally, I like the rhyme of 'waves' and 'saved', as it shows a synchronicity of thought; a certain flow and rhythm which shows that you are 'in tune' with your self.
Again, in the last stanza, the theme of reflection presents its self, although in a much less ambiguous way; a way less open to interpretation. Perhaps you are reflected in the waves? What exactly is embodied, you do not state, but leave the reader to guess. The last line is masterful and intriguing - gambling with limbo. What does that mean? Are you gambling with the status quo, trying to break free? Is this struggle costing you so much that you feel 'stripped bare?' Perhaps. You leave the reader to formulate the answer for his/her self, which is a sign of true art. The rhyme here again illustrates your synchronicity of thought, and ends the poem in an impressive way.
I think this is one of your best, Kristin. You have real talent.
Love,
Samwise
x.
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Hey, Sam
Thank you for such a wonderful comment. I can tell you took time to read this and take it all in. I appreciate that, very much so
As usual, you picked up on the hints toward Astrology. I knew you would.
I don't have to go through and explain much of this to you, it seems you've got it all down to a science as far as this poem goes and I'm glad you understand what it is I'm trying to convey.
Again, thank you. I can't tell you enough how much your outlooks and opinions on my poems mean to me.
Love you,
Kristin
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u do have a way with words there is no denying that. And going by the genre of poems u write, i am a bit surprised tat u don't venture in other areas. I think u would do urself good. Or maybe u have, and i haven't read them as yet?
This poem... I don't think u could have done a bad job at it anyways. But your skill has definitely gone northwards. The anger and frustration, which had a reckless tone to it, now feels a lot more poignant. The only crib i have is with the 4th stanza. The questioning tone simply does not go with the rest of the poem. Maybe if u could leave out the question mark? That would give a lot more weight to the line
Loved the poem otherwise.
Cheers
HM -
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Hey there HM. In my nearly five years of writing, I have experienced with many styles. Even took journies back and forth with my ways of expression. I used to write third person poems the most but felt after a while, that they were much too impersonal and fake if it's not directly coming from me.
There are over 600 poems that I haven't put on this site and possibly, never will, as they are my earlier work and have moved on so I suppose you have missed me evolving as a 'writer'.
I prefer to leave that question mark there but thank you so much for your comment!
Always appreciated!
Cat
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Hey there RS, thanks much for reading and commenting. I'm glad you enjoyed.
It's interesting that you bring up the topic of self-medicating, because that was the pretense that had me write this at all in the first place. Drinking myself to sleep, sleeping pills, anything to shut my mind off when I can't get it to stop wandering in depths that can't be solved. 'Cause, lets face it. I do not have the one I want and he does not have me. Yet. It is a pain I've never known before which is why I felt quite immature writing this.
(Thanks for the spelling correction, by the way, must have missed it)
Anyway, yes, the days have lost their glittering appeal which is no surprise, being without the one I want, even need.
I suppose that all things pass, all things go. And that can be both a comforting and disconcerting thought.
Their is a lot of emotional turmoil involved that makes me feel like a child, new to the ordeal of life though I've seen the days that I have. Funny how it feels like forever until I look at my grandma or grandpa and just imagine what they've seen. How many loves they went without, who they've watched come and go. Makes all this seem silly, almost.
Anyway, enough of my rambling. If you still feel the need to message me and chat about this, I welcome it.
Thanks again,
Cat
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bravo Synth
this is definitely my favorite of your work that i've read so far. the feeling the reader gets is undeniable. apparently i'm not the only one who thinks they are the loneliest soul on the planet. (which by the way in that second stanza you have spelled loneliest incorrectly, ya just forgot the 'e' is all). Anyway, the cliche is like a self fulfilling prophecy about how the best poetry comes from sadness or in this case loneliness.
--the poem takes me back to times i've lain awake at night like last night, the night before, he11 most nights that i don't pass out from self medicating.
--When did the excitement and freshness of a new day become just another day of the same ol B.S. or as you so eloquently state it "morning drags itself in, dead weight" ... (at least that's how it strikes me)
--I truly enjoyed how you implemented the title into the second to last stanza. At this point in the poem, the reader is so entranced that the transition into a different metaphor within the last stanza flows so seamlessly that one doesn't even notice it's happening and it fits together so nicely.
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again, you've got some very fine lines in here. some great descriptives. i especially love the first line of the third stanza. it can be taken a few different ways: your mind dancing inside your skull(as minds often do), or your actual head moving quickly back and forth in your agony. very poignant on its own but you add the humid description, which seems perfect. i know i had never considered this truth previously, but it most certainly is humid.
mostly what stuck out though was the conclusion. it is perfect. from the mental image and truth of how we gamble with limbo to the rhyming couplet. especially since "stripped bare" carries so much weight with it.
nice
-theo -
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Hello, Again :)
And thanks again!
Yes, not being able to stop obsessing over something that destroys you is almost like a sickness. You know, you just can't stop pacing, can't stop rocking or reliving. And it does feel humid. Like your brain is overheating. The funny thing is, that Papyrus inspired that idea because he so acurately described what I have never thought before either. It fits the perspective and hey, it's another thing that I can say I described.
Nothing annoys me more than thinking or feeling something so strongly and not being able to put it into words.
Thanks, Theo. You've left me some very encouraging comments. I appreciate the time you took to look at this one as well.
Cat -
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my pleasure.
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