Feeling Hopeful, Christmas, 2008
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Feeling Hopeful, Christmas, 2008
You, lying there on an incline like a light
about to turn on, I don’t trust you. The eyes
that will never open the same way again have dark
movement, hardly there, making me want to reach back
to your stone country home, to the waterless bed
of seeds planted at the entrance. Pull them up, unopened,
carry them for hours, as much time as I need
before having to throw them out or bury them or
toss them up and wish them through the sky glazed with moon,
the darkness disguised as light. I’m at your side,
but I don’t touch you. The barred bed looks like windchimes.
Your breath mixing with the whistle and wind of the ventilator
is heaviness. When your warm finger twitches,
I want to crawl back to the garden. I want a rain dance
culled from the bleak midwinter, the water
singing through the soil, no longer stone,
like I imagined when I was seven and you took me
to feed the ferns each morning, shadowed by the awnings.
On Christmas morning, the tinsel always shone like liquid
falling from the flicker of lights peeking through evergreen.
That’s what it is about your eyes, that they have life
living there beneath the black stems of lashes,
that I’m living there and can never climb out
of my face moving like melting wax under
the flame of the first advent candle last year,
lit, you said, with hope.
You, lying there on an incline like a light
about to turn on, I don’t trust you. The eyes
that will never open the same way again have dark
movement, hardly there, making me want to reach back
to your stone country home, to the waterless bed
of seeds planted at the entrance. Pull them up, unopened,
carry them for hours, as much time as I need
before having to throw them out or bury them or
toss them up and wish them through the sky glazed with moon,
the darkness disguised as light. I’m at your side,
but I don’t touch you. The barred bed looks like windchimes.
Your breath mixing with the whistle and wind of the ventilator
is heaviness. When your warm finger twitches,
I want to crawl back to the garden. I want a rain dance
culled from the bleak midwinter, the water
singing through the soil, no longer stone,
like I imagined when I was seven and you took me
to feed the ferns each morning, shadowed by the awnings.
On Christmas morning, the tinsel always shone like liquid
falling from the flicker of lights peeking through evergreen.
That’s what it is about your eyes, that they have life
living there beneath the black stems of lashes,
that I’m living there and can never climb out
of my face moving like melting wax under
the flame of the first advent candle last year,
lit, you said, with hope.
Last edited by Baywriter on December 6th, 2015, 11:43 pm, edited 1 time in total.
3 replies for every poem you post! You get what you give!
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Re: Feeling Hopeful, Christmas, 2008
Bay this poem is such a sad piece of poetry. It's an emotional heavyweight. You have this power to command words, to command images and create mood. Not many people can do that. I think this is what makes you a really skilled poet. You command language in a way that is fierce yet gentle, hard yet soft. This poem is a perfect example of that. I loved the imagery in this piece. There are so many stirking images...the dirt-black stem of lashes, the sick bed etc. So amny more I'd quote the entire poem. I love the soft use of metaphor. I also love the personal touch of the speaker how she brings in memory of the person being mourned. "to feed the ferns each morning, shadowed by awnings". Some of your best work, friend. It's an honour to read. Thanks so much for sharing this w/ us. :)
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Re: Feeling Hopeful, Christmas, 2008
I'm pretty hard-nosed when it comes to reviewing poetry, but I can tell you I found this one genuinely moving.
This stood out in particular:
" carry them for hours, as much time as I need
before having to throw them out or bury them or
toss them up and wish them through the sky lit with moon,
the darkness disguised as light. "
It's a fine piece of writing, Baywriter, if I'm any judge.
You seem to be able to write symphonies, while I can only manage string quartets....
Well done indeed.
This stood out in particular:
" carry them for hours, as much time as I need
before having to throw them out or bury them or
toss them up and wish them through the sky lit with moon,
the darkness disguised as light. "
It's a fine piece of writing, Baywriter, if I'm any judge.
You seem to be able to write symphonies, while I can only manage string quartets....
Well done indeed.
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Re: Feeling Hopeful, Christmas, 2008
I really love how you use pacing and structure within your work, it's one of those things which is often overlooked yet when read aloud it adds another dimension to the poem. I think the section from the last words of the opening stanza to the period in line ten are a great example of that, accentuating the imagination of the speaker and her hopes, all inspired from the movement of someone's eyes.
You are able to contrast that in such a brutal way though, jeez it hits hard. What's more it does so with relatively simple descriptions, yet they feel agonising by contrast to the speaker's attempt to seemingly pull the past into the now. There's something about the sparseness of the setting which makes the descriptions of their breath and the ventilator really stand out. That sound, it's just so upsetting.
When you then return to those memories it's a fleeting bright spot, but it feels so desperate now and the speaker seems to fear that the passing of this person will mean the passing of her memories. There's a more frantic feel now, and even the beautiful imagery in the ending doesn't change the emotional impact of this poem. It shook me to the core. Absolutely outstanding work.
You are able to contrast that in such a brutal way though, jeez it hits hard. What's more it does so with relatively simple descriptions, yet they feel agonising by contrast to the speaker's attempt to seemingly pull the past into the now. There's something about the sparseness of the setting which makes the descriptions of their breath and the ventilator really stand out. That sound, it's just so upsetting.
When you then return to those memories it's a fleeting bright spot, but it feels so desperate now and the speaker seems to fear that the passing of this person will mean the passing of her memories. There's a more frantic feel now, and even the beautiful imagery in the ending doesn't change the emotional impact of this poem. It shook me to the core. Absolutely outstanding work.
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Re: Feeling Hopeful, Christmas, 2008
Thank you all for taking time with this poem.I really appreciate it. This one is important to me. xx
3 replies for every poem you post! You get what you give!
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Re: Feeling Hopeful, Christmas, 2008
One of the truly wonderful things about life, is memory. How bland it would be if we couldn't remember such as this piece presents - and then, life is even grander when it gives some, like you, the ability to share those memories so expressively, thereby adding greater warmth to those who can only hold such memories within.
It gently expands the love those memories hold.
peace, my friend.
jimmy
It gently expands the love those memories hold.
peace, my friend.
jimmy
- Ladywildalice
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Re: Feeling Hopeful, Christmas, 2008
Wow! Bay.....I mean WOW!!!!. This is terrific. I felt as though I were on life-support reading this, just waiting for the pause between breaths, feeling the push of air forcing me to stay one more second. The visuals you pull up brought the texture of the fern leaves, the damp earth, the starkness of sadness, all to the foreground. You are such a wonderful writer, one of my idols for sure. Congratulations, Bay, so very well deserved.
'Where ecstasy leaves gravity and dances with wild eyes' by Ladywildalice
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Re: Feeling Hopeful, Christmas, 2008
And it showed. You're always such a creative yet meticulous writer, but this one seemed to go the extra mile. There's so much to take in from this poem yet I don't feel overloaded by detail - as I mentioned the first time around, the sparseness of the setting helps to really emphasise both the speaker's memories, and the sights and sounds of a hospital, both equally heart-rending in their own way. This is a genuinely upsetting poem to read, and that is testament to the power of your pen.Baywriter wrote:This one is important to me.
Congratulations on the spotlight.
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Re: Feeling Hopeful, Christmas, 2008
So happy to revisit this piece. Congrats on the spotlight Bay, it's well earned! Wonderful, wonderful work. :)
- Forestdawn
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Re: Feeling Hopeful, Christmas, 2008
Baywriter:
Applause! Applause! This masterpiece sells itself! Congrads on being the spot light.
My favorite:
To the waterless bed of seeds planted at the entrance. Pull them up unopened
Very vivid and detailed in every way. Splendid power of poetry. great job!
Thanks
Applause! Applause! This masterpiece sells itself! Congrads on being the spot light.
My favorite:
To the waterless bed of seeds planted at the entrance. Pull them up unopened
Very vivid and detailed in every way. Splendid power of poetry. great job!
Thanks
Forestdawn: Entwined in the love of nature, Goddess of the green grove
"The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt within the heart." Helen Keller
"The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt within the heart." Helen Keller
- Kornelia
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Re: Feeling Hopeful, Christmas, 2008
Baywriter,
You have managed to capture a very intimate atmosphere here, as I read, the images unfold and seem to speak of a tragedy of its own. It seems to also hold a strong spiritual meaning, of awareness lost in time.
Much enjoyed!!!
Kornelia
You have managed to capture a very intimate atmosphere here, as I read, the images unfold and seem to speak of a tragedy of its own. It seems to also hold a strong spiritual meaning, of awareness lost in time.
Much enjoyed!!!
Kornelia
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Re: Feeling Hopeful, Christmas, 2008
I couldn't pick a line to express my thoughts of the excellence and melancholy of this poem; because every word, phrase and line is a perfect picture. You speak the words that tell the feelings loved ones know in these situations (I have seen as a nurse over and over), but can never express in words as true and poignant as these, except with their tears. Inspiriting and beautiful write. Congratulations, Loretta
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Re: Feeling Hopeful, Christmas, 2008
A great use of words in your piece,which read so well. Thank you for sharing this,congratulations on the Spotlight and a Happy Christmas to you,
dornicks
dornicks
- Josie
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Re: Feeling Hopeful, Christmas, 2008
It took me right back to the hospital during the gray area where Mom hovered between life and death. Memories come to life like your childhood walk together in the morning to feed the ferns, mostly wondering if you will see again the light of life residing in the eyes. Congratulations on the TPS Spotlight.