It was like a dream, a nightmare spanning years.
I drifted through a world of predators,
my larval soul awash in rapid fears.
One day I passed your station. You stopped me on the way.
You asked me where I went to and why my eyes were closed,
then handed me a sleeping bag and wished me well.
So with your gift, this orange coverture,
I found peace in the night, but in the day
I drifted through a world of predators.
My life was filled with terror behind impassive walls.
My thoughts were pumped with poison. In time I fled those cells.
One day I passed your station. You stopped me on the way
and questioned me with care—I would not sway;
you could not know what I had just escaped from.
I found peace in the night, but in the day
my blood was mixed with shadows, turned to serum-waste—
you listened to my answers, yet sensed what I withheld,
then handed me a sleeping bag and wished me well.
Your simple gift permitted me to travel,
to mend the fractured crystal of my mind.
You could not know what I had just escaped from.
I fled my own destruction into the fearsome world
to chance uncertain highways before my fate was sealed.
One day I passed your station. You stopped me on the way,
my fourth day on the asphalt running blind
with only pupal hopes—yet undiscerned—
to mend the fractured crystal of my mind.
Perhaps my eyes revealed the weight of iron woes.
You somehow glimpsed the quandary I would not dare expose
then handed me a sleeping bag and wished me well.
Those fibers offered metamorphosis…
It was like a dream, a nightmare spanning years
with only pupal hopes—yet undiscerned—,
my larval soul awash in rapid fears.
In time I learned to fly erratic on the wind,
my dusty wings capricious upon the windblown fields—
One day I passed your station. You stopped me on the way,
then handed me a sleeping bag and wished me well.
Author notes
if you comment on this poem, i'd be interested in particular in learning what sort of mental-emotional experience and reaction you had as you read, and how your mind interprets and understands the imagery employed. if possible, i'd like to know what this poem means to you, what you feel it is attempting to convey.
to learn more about the hybridanelle: allpoetry.com/Column/1086828/all=1
Written March 31st, 2005
In a list
Thoughts, Feelings, Interpretations, Experience
Comments
1 - 41 of 41
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Touching
This is obviously the time you was a run-away and I felt kind of like one feels when they are watching a movie and have that yearning for the protaganist to overcome or win. Or when one is watching a soccer match and wants their team to win.... I was wanting the character (you) to overcome in the write...
The kindness of the individual who gave you a sleeping bag is mainly what is focused on here and too bad for whoever it was that they won't get to enjoy your appreciation which deserves their attention for this piece.
"then gave me a sleeping bag and wished me well"
I am quite positive their wish came true....
KAY -
Good write
this is a great piece i liked the way you described everything. -
This was strangely reminiscent of the lyrical genius I know as Neil Young, specifically 'thrasher'. Someone played it for me recently, and this seems to have been written along a similar vein ie. intimately reflective, combined with social commentary.
This speaks volumes about cynicism and inherent mistrust, apprehension and disillusionment. The destruction caused when we choose a life behind walls ( cocooned ), unwilling to entertain the notion of taking calculated/uncalculated risks. And missing out on some exquisite scenery along the way.
I could relate to this. Allowing someone access to us emotionally / cerebrally, allowing them to make a marked difference in our lives. In that respect it hit like the proverbial sledgehammer. Conveys growth and internal movement.
Excellent piece. Enjoyed immensely.
~ Sonia ~
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Mammoth writing with an opus almost of orchestration in it's delicate way. Lingers in the mind with imagery and wording so intriguing. Tony.
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This took on a more 'pungent' mood than the former (of course, I state this because it is the emotion I experienced upon resolution).
Fantastic use of refrain. By the conclusion of this piece I was smiling ear to ear. It seems as though they fell in just the right places... I could feel it coming on the end ('s something similar to the way I use refrain) and it joyed me to see it there.
Your poetry is somewhat like fine art. There are a lot of artists around here. Many are capable of very vauge expressions - our coloring books. Some can tackle the harder sorts... But you capture every detail were it even the hush of the wind.
Grace beyond what I'm capable of. -
mlp: thank you so much for letting me see the depth of your reaction to this poem. this means a lot to me. i hope the ranger i wrote this for was able to see the poem and remember the kid. i left a copy of it at a ranger station in the grand canyon about four weeks ago with a note. if not, at least there are others who are able to experience the long-term effects of giving in such the way vicariously.
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what a sad, yet hopeful story... the kindness of a stranger and the suffering inside you were constantly battling each other in their emotional impact on me... since i saw your pic on your author page and read the intro to this poem, i had many visions of you as a young, deeply troubled young man, wandering this world, but not knowing why or where he was headed, but "away" from some heinous existence... i also felt that the kindness of the stranger somehow lessened the pain of what you had ran from... i once pulled over on 11th avenue in nyc, a homeless man was shivering outside the intrepid (don't know if you're familiar with nyc), i had returned from a camping trip with my 3 sons... i'm pretty callous when it comes to the homeless, especially here in nyc...(you could become homeless yourself if you try and help them all)...but this man's face had more strife than anyone i had ever seen... i pulled over and handed him my sleeping bag from the back of my jeep... it was a $300 northface mummy rated for -20 degrees... it was about 5 degrees, and the wind from the east river was whipping cold... the only reason i mention the cost, etc. is because it was worth 20 times that to this man... he jumped into it faster than he could unroll it and it was a life changing moment for me, giving me back some of the compassion that this hardened city raped me of.... this poem of yours has taken me right back there... thank you for allowing me to re-live that moment and feel "real" again.... the next 3 homeless people along 11th avenue received each of my son's bags and i purchased new ones before our next camping trip... thanks again... michele
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for a fairly structured poet
i'm impressed(i hardly read structure, tis a phobia of mine)
but i will read you alot
well written -
Sometimes the most beneficial thing to happen, is to leave the "cocoon" and sprout those wings to discover the real self in the big world around. I really like this form alot, I might have to give a go at it sometime. Excellent musings!
blessings, Sandi -
Well Erin, you've done it again. Another soul wrenching, thought provoking, image evoking kaleidoscope of verse.
As to your comments on this piece, I will do my best to respond fully.
What I felt...
Sadness, anger, gratitude, hope,
Sadness at what you've experienced.
Anger at the dysfunction of a society that permits such freedom of predators, of all types, at all levels of society, while simultaneously dis-empowering the very people predators typically prey upon, the innocent.
Gratitude for the small kindness bestowed by a stranger
Hope for the progress of your larval soul to reach the ecstatic state of transformation you've been steadily propelled towards during the course of your life, thus far.
As far as the imagery goes, I thought it was brilliant. What I really enjoy about your hybridanelle's are their ability to convey a story, the subtle displacement of static refrains really underscore what is important in the telling without becoming redundant.
The title cocoon works so well on so many levels for me. Well, 3 levels anyway.
1. "It was like a dream...I drifted through a world of predators."
that daydream quality, brought on by extreme and repeated trauma, in a way is its own kind of cocoon.
2.Orange covertures, sleeping bag, Those fibers offered metamorphosis…
a more obvious relation to the cocoon, but more importantly, I think, a hint at the internal alchemical transformation from pain to peace, fear to joy, dis-ease to ease.
3. larval soul, nascent pupal hopes yet undiscerned
of course! What lies inside a cocoon? Potential.
This whole poem represents to me the struggles one must overcome in order to blossom into a fully actualized whole being, as represented by the butterfly.
My final thought for you Erin is, its nothing for a flower to bloom in fertile earth, but to bloom so brightly from such dark adversity, is something very rare.
"I fled my own destruction into the fearsome world"
Terrific Poet, the world is better off for you being in it.
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This poem made me remember how lost I feel at times, when I feel like I'm wandering aimelessly with no direction in life. Then, all of the sudden, someone so powerful and beautiful enters your life and provides you with fleeting insight and then takes off into the massive sea of people. I was sitting in a coffee shop one day (I do this often) and a lady who could have been an angel spoke such wisdom to me and then left. The strange part was the fact that she only came in for a glass of water and did not purchase anything. It was really strange and comforting all at the same time.
Also, the lost feeling is all related to change, which is what this poem seems to be describing. This piece is beautifully written and the flow reminds me of rocking back and forth on a boat when waves pass underneath.
Great job!
~Zola~ -
This poem totally consumed my attention...As I read, I was taken on a short journey...Imagining the pain, the horror....relief the larva must have endured...and in a way I pictured the one who gave the sleeping bag as God, and perhaps we are the larva, ever changing, enduring the metamorphasis of life...He has to change us, break us to make us whole...
Good write...
WOO HOO...green and pink coloured shoes... -
this poe of your remind me of how life is for all of us. it would be so nice to just stay inside where we are safe instead go out in to the world and meet new people some good and some not so good .some that belive in truth and some that say they are being truthful yet is found to be liar. to me your poem had great sadiness in it yet it also had hope. i like your poem very much.You ask me what i got out of your poem so i hope that i have given you what you ask for. i thank you so very much for sahreing thie grand piece with all of us
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the coming out...is what I got from this and the sleeping bag was the perfect metaphor...almost putting the giver of the bag, in reguards of a higher being. perhaps while in the bag it made you search your soul for questions unanswered, for the day that you shed yourself of the excess baggage...nice piece..thanks for entering my thoughts..Peace Muddy
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I really liked this! above you said tell you what this poem meant to us. I can't tell you exactly what i thought it meant but I'll try: To me it sounded like someone had just had some very rough times and things had just been spinning but then they keep meeting someone that cares for them, i was thinkin sleeping bag was metaphorical...I might be wrong but either way I liked how it was written!-Great job-Ruthy
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Refreshing and beautiful. I percieved imagery and substance. A story behind the prose. Very well done.
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I'm not really sure just how to think about this. I can think of a few different views. One being an interpretation of the life of an insect going through metamorphasis-- the obvious direct interpretation. But I can also see this as a metaphore for struggle in someone's life while going through adelescence or some time around where they feel as though they have to protect themselves from others.
A very very good write nonetheless. -
I believe everyone has covered this to a point. But I learned a new form with such style and grace. You opened your soul in this one and painted a beautiful picture with your words. You inspire lot of writers to expand beyond their depths of writing. So, I thank you for allowing amature writers to see true gifts. Haley27
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i like your use of this form. it came off much more natural than a lot of form poetry.
i really enjoyed reading about the...genuine humanity of this piece. the simple things that mean the world to others. its a powerful and intense image that you have created.
the cocoon symbolism works well...the prison, the boundries of the human mind, the rebirth and release of life anew. the shedding of old ways, old feelings. a realization. a breaking forth. all very strong and portrayed well.
a lot of nice things here. good job
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Without sounding too much like a cliche, life is a journey not unlike that of a soul trveling down highways as if hitchhiking. Carrying only the bare minimum and taking each day and its perils or adventures as they come. I sensed a vulnerability here. When we go through this life ther are many dangers and pitfalls, especially in a world that has become so tainted with the evil of "predators" sexual or otherwise. I kept thinking something horrible was going to happen to the soul in the poem. I was glad to discern that The soul was actually helped and not baited with "sleeping bag" to go to a violent end. I also felt that the sleeping bag itself may have been a place of solitude and rest from the worlds toils and snares. I enjoyed this, kept me wondering!
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Oh so good to read. I was impressed with the generousity of the one who, although curious, was willing to extend a helping hand to a stranger without expecting any great return or detailed explanations. This showes of so much talent i couldn't tell you.. Well done..
I hope you write more woderfull things like this
from
sarah-moon -
For me, Erin, this is man's emergence from his own self made prison, his soul and heart gradually escaping the fears which had kept him bound within those safe walls. As his freedom begins to register upon his mind, his eyes are opened to not only the predators of his mind but the humanity which surrounds him in the outside world. A world in which freedom of heart, soul and mind are his for the asking, or the taking. He learns that strangers are not necessarily bad, there's good in many. Open-mindedness is the key here, I think. To live in a world of darkness, fear and nothingness gives way to the freedom of living, acceptance, give and take.
However close or far fetched my view is of this piece, it is nontheless a fine piece of work.
By the way, my granddaughter, Anna Goose (formerly Izzy-Goose) is a huge fan of your poetry
Dee
Edited on Apr 14, 8:59 p.m. because ''. -
At first , Erin, I really did have to smile at this. I know it is a serious reflection on how a simple act can be pivotal in life. The reason I smiled is that a friend of mine has such a sleeping bag,(he uses when we do our field trips) and we joke about how he looks like some kind of bug about to emerge from a cocoon in the mornings.
So , from having the visual firmly implanted, the imagery of this was carried through the whole poem in the vocabulary, and used in such a way as to be metaphorical not only of the safety of the chrysalis, but of the emerging hope and life gained through experience.
I suppose that the sleeping bag story is one we might all bear in mind, considering how much of a differnece it can make- your story, but makes you think of all the homeless people who would also appreciate the gift of one both literally and metaphorically.. -
Hello again,
I just re-read this and became suddenly aware of all the reference to the "catapillar-like" experience you liken this episode to. I have slept in a sleeping bag enough to know first-hand from whence the notion arises, but on deeper look, I also see the way the author has seen the overall benefit from this man's generousity as having greatly assisted his own emergence to a better and brighter place than from whence he came.
Just thought I would share my little "light bulb" with you.
Cheers,
Del -
wity
at times i thought this poem was really intresting and well written... at other times i found my self skimming passed words... maybe because i knew it was long... or maybe because i got a.d.d? lol.... anyways i thought this was very intelligent... wasnt sure what to think about it tho, i just thought it was cool, like a nice style to it, very smart and well worth the read... no doubt about it... -
Erin, i read the email. This is a great poem. I love the way you take such pride in your poetry. Traveling long distances... We're doing a a poetry unit and i've written a few poems that are someon what "8th grade" structured. the only thing i really don't understand is hyperbole. Mr. Shaw, my english teacher, keeps pulling out Emily Dickinson poetry like "I'm Nobody This poem painted a picture in my mind of a gas station near my old hell-hole, it had cracked assfault and I purely remeber what "ghetto night" was. I imagine the "You gave me a sleeping bag" a sign of what would have happened is I ran away from the situation for good. I loved this poem and Ic an imagine a woman giving you a sleeping bag. Supurb poem Erin
Nice
-stay in touch!
Holly O'Donnell -
Your simple gift permitted me to travel,
to mend the fractured crystal of my mind;
you could not know what I had just escaped
this stanza intriqued me the most with the twist and throw left to the audience to quess what it was that entrawed you to be happy with the release to this abrupt freedom and captivating throw to the wind to allow you to work out the kinks to the unnerving innermix of your shadows that blocked you in the day time that had you so enthrawed in the evening of great deep passion....
I believe we most have been in this space of empty space where we are thankful to be free of the obligation of the aftermath of the love triangle game we play while too young or too immature to take the responsibility to make the partnership work for a successful realtionship.
Tamara
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I'm not entirely clear on the emotions stirred up here, but emotions are never clear anyway! i can tell you that this is the only thing i've read in a long time that took my mind off of my own stress for the entire read. it conjured a fear, but with sympathy and hope more than stress. somehow, i felt like i related, and most poems usually don't strike me so personally. it's strange, but as vague as this poem actually is, the feeling is enhanced, rather than encumbered by, the vagueness.
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That's absolutely wonderful. The way the whole story span was absolutely breathtaking. Your imagery was fabulous and it felt like a piece from the Arabian Nights. It had that legendary feel to it.
Great work!
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Erin,
I can not leave a long message because this was simply too good. I just really appreciate your talent and it just really is inspiring. Really.
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I was at once impressed with the generousity of the one who, although curious, was willing to extend a helping hand to a stranger without expecting any great return or detailed explanations, but also very curious about the mind set of the fellow on the run (I take him to be the author). He refers to the "world of predators" on the one hand, so is NOT a trusting soul, and perhaps with good reason, but is also aware of his need to interact and accepts the help of a stranger, seemingly just because he is some kind of authority figure. To me, this says the author, while struggling with an abismal past, has at least maintained a sense of the need for human interaction even while his skepticisms are monstrously present in his every day thinking.
I detect a note of internal sadness due to the fact the author cannot muster the kind of outward gratitude for the helping hand, but he resigns himself to be internally grateful nonetheless.
Perhaps I am reading more into this than I ought, but this is what I have garnered after a couple of read-throughs.
As to the form, I enjoyed the varied line lengths in the alternating stanzas...it seemed to echo the ebbing and flowing of the author's emotional state as he journeyed away from his prior holdings.
Cheers and best wishes, Erin,
Del
Edited on Apr 14, 8:34 because ''. -
good job
I actually liked this in toto, even though there were parts that didn't really "do it" for me. One of those is "rapid fears". I can't quite see that as a workable phrase here. I am also not overly fond of "coverture" there, but it works I guess. All in all, however, this is a good write. Your cheering section has covered everything so there's nothing much left to say anyway.
Good job. -
VERY NICE!!
USUALLY I ONLY HAVE ONE FAVORITE PART IN POEMS BUT IN THIS I FOUND MAY PARTS I REALLY LIKED -
good
This didn't necessarily take me on any kind of emotional ride because the only emotion that i am feeling right now is anger with this site, but besides that, i did appreciate the talent portrayed here, the imagery was beautiful, and i thank you for sharing, crackertl82 -
interesting. different. it wasnt until almost the end that i started to get some idea as to what its about. and even now, im probably way off the intended meaning. seems to be about mother and child. but i dunno. good job with writing this. weird format. enjoyed. was worth the read.
Blu -
Dear Erin,
You're Good!!( from Analyze This or That)
Actually, you're getting better and better at this!
Well, this is your baby, the hybridenelle, and so it should be!
I think I know what it all means but I don't think it my place to say.
I saw Bob Dylan a few weeks ago, so now I can die happy!
Good piece of writing, Erin!
Know what rhymes with ORANGE Erin? Unscramble it....
"NRHVGTEEIY"
Your Friend,
John
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beautiful style and I dont really know what I felt, I kind of went into this content but deep mode. I wish I could explain it, it was a wonderful poem. Keep on writing.
Blessed be,
Lefay -
this poem has beautiful imagery, and was a delight to read, i thank you for featuring it, i look forward to reading more of you in the future, nothing to critique here, i don't feel anything could have been better, crackertl82
Please return the favor by commenting on my song lyrics, Through The Glass, this is supposed to be the title track for my first album, and I am trying to get everybody’s honest opinion on it if possible, I’d really appreciate it, please and thank you, Crackertl82.
The link is posted below, and it would be much appreciated, Crackertl82…allpoetry.com/Poem/1141161
www.hotornot.com/r/?eid=G8A8REE&key=RSQ
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yeh, bagdhad isn't a good place to be right now (i'm not sure it ever was). lot of angery people there with bombs and guns who don't really know what they want, but are willing to do commit very violent acts to get what they've been told they want (i'm speaking for both sides here).
i'd like to say "strange world we live in these days"--but human nature really hasn't improved all that much since we were catapulting plague-infested bodies over tall castle walls. the world we live in today is much like the world we lived in then, just with much bigger catapults. -
I think that this poem reminded me of a person who was living too fast "running around with her eyes closed", until she meets someone who gives her a sleeping bag, or a way to slow down and have time for themselves to dream. With this action, the girl emerges.She finally sees life and learns to slow down to appreciate it. Something to that effect.
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to tell the truth, I'm in an emotional whirl of my own and the words didn't even penetrate..I withdrew a poem of mine from a contest..the rules about commenting are ridiculous..someone I know is going to Bagdhad..nothing I read gets through..I'm numb..
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