Grab angst by its crinkled throat and take it in,
dissolve it, chew on its bones
and maybe it will disappear
for reader and writer.
Take sinewy, almost sultry lines,
dance with them,
until your midnight hour approaches
and glass slipper no longer fits swollen foot.
Share, like sacrament, unholy grief
weeping on pages of sopped linen:
It softens to have someone ball it up,
rub it until it becomes pliable enough
to silk a weeping eye.
There is no sound to smoke curling up
in the dark, under a broken streetlight
but it can make hair stand up
on the back of your neck: That is how a poet
affects the world with mere words.
Did you think me to be telling stories?
Oh, no, I have spilled my guts
out onto this banquet of bent phrases.
You thought I was merely a voice
sputtering about some grandiose grind of verse?
Feel it. Touch the skin of it.
It breathes. Sometimes my breath is stale
and you will turn your head,
but, imagine what it took to eat what rots it.
How to read this poet, is with a soulful eye,
sensitive Braille finger presses on your eyeballs
to give them peace after I have sparred with things
that my bones have heard somewhere.
Don’t push your pity, your pathos,
your obsessive need to have me fit into your hallelujah.
I am busy hollering for heaven to return.
Put the book down if it is too raw, too real, for you.
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Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 30 of 30
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WOW!
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Hey,
this is GOOD!!! i didn't think it was going to be like this when i read the title. i thought of something really different in my head, but you pulled it off my friend. this is well written and the words made since to me as i read it. i love it. please return the favor.
~Dani~
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YA YA! SIS, you really let loose,this is so real and speaks clearly...good luck...MM
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I love the way that this piece ends
and the way it begins, the way that it is phrased and the way it builds... it definitely is thought provoking, and not just when it comes to reading a specific piece or the work of one author, but on reading in general... it also states plainly some opinions and certainly gets the message across without being offensive... very tasteful and a great use of language/vocabulary throughout...
I am especially fond of the first and last stanzas...
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It is easy to mistake what was written... in this poem I am speaking to why I write..and how I refuse pity and platitudes. I have to get through stuff by myself...and writing is my way. Some people can not bear it and react to the things they read between the lines..their own palce of shadows... soemtimes it is too much.
thank you for your comments.
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How wonderful you did on this! A true confession of a real raw poet. This is how I feel for sure, not sure how everyone else feels but me, I can speak for and you laid down in words just how I feel about my words. They are all pieces of my life, parts of me itricately placed for the reader to consume a part of my soul upon reading. This was a perfect first read for me this Sunday morning. I would pick a favorite part, but I would have to write it all down here. PERFECTO!!!!
Becky
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And so it is, right and good and real and raw...and the world has youth who need to know we lie if we say it is all wonderful and we are automatically saved if we deny the shadows..and that there is hope...for ways to heal these places of our truths. I jsut wrote one on abuse I experienced...seldom do I really go there, but this one, too, needed, after allt hese years of healing (heeling) to be written..however pathetic, pitiful and putting-off...it is real..and as I said, pehaps too raw for those who would deny that life has its shadows where we stew and brew and then bud.
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Oh...beautiful, beautiful! The imagery is amazing! I loved every word of this.
"Don’t push your pity, your pathos,
your obsessive need to have me fit into your hallelujah.
I am busy hollering for heaven to return.
Put the book down if it is too raw, too real, for you."
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ty random.... life is full of lots of different kinds of emotions...if we are real and raw, we admit it and if we are poets, we write it.
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first I need to say that I do feel and touch and breathe [not necessarily this poem] but the place from where it comes. As a reader I therefore gained a lot and I thank you. Pathos? of course there is pathos in it [without any of that - I am usually left somewhat cold, even though I might dance to the temporary pretty of it]But it is never the pretty that sustains me in my own time of ugly and raw. It is to know and feel that the blood that I shed is shed by so many others. And thereby I see a collective pool of trials. I second Wanda's note re the integrity of your writings and I know that no dictionary was used to "pretty it up for public display and or approval". The same holds true for tribulations....you allow me to look forward to them as well and thereby I recognise my own "hallelujahs".
is this life support for me?
Of course it is to a certain degree. It is what I "CHOOSE" to be a part of my life support.
hmmmm......I guess I have joined the ranks of those "with insufficient skill, attention or sustained effort involved"
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Carol, don't ever let anyONE or anyTHING silence your OWN voice. I could not hear it in you re-writing Shakespeare. That would merely be different words----like saying the same thing in another language. I am sorry that this write seemed to be torn apart,
much love
xoxoxoxo
reenie
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Dearest reenie....
You know..e.very emotion we have is a gift from whomever it was that thought us up. If we do not honor each, we can become off-balanced. to be ral is too feel every feeling, to honor it and then to do something about it..I choose to write....
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"Don’t push your pity, your pathos,
your obsessive need to have me fit into your hallelujah.
I am busy hollering for heaven to return.
Put the book down if it is too raw, too real, for you."
Even when it is, for some, too raw with rage, bloody with fresh wounds & seeping from the weeping you can no longer restrain, I know that I shall always find honesty & soulfulness upon your pages...not from someone's overly vivid imagination, but from someone who has lived her words, danced her music, breathed her anguish & ecstasy with every fiber of her being. Thank you for your integrity. Wanda
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On Contemporary Angst
This was not written in respect of Carol, Wanda, but in respect of the overall impression respecting recourse to angst as a legitimate priority for focus especially in a "free verse" context amongst those who tend to ignore the advice "Don’t push your pity, your pathos,
your obsessive need to have me fit into your halleluiah. -
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thank you for your reply.... it is easy to take offense, I am afraid when it is posted in such a poem... I shall let it go because I know, there is a place for every kidn of expression and that is ok... the heart speaks many languages.
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Perhaps you might have pointed that out beforehand, as it seemed to me to have been delivered to HER doorstep, not as a mass-mailing. The stanza you initially quoted:
"Grab angst by its crinkled throat and take it in,
dissolve it, chew on its bones
and maybe it will disappear
for reader and writer."
I have found writing to be a great release over the years. My walls have no holes punched in them & my china remains intact. Venting on paper is much healthier than the methods many others may choose. I would choose to read nothing but romantic notions if I could, but I know there is violence in the world to be handled, nonetheless. There have been many instances, both for Carol & myself, that something we wrote (in free verse) resonated with a young person & made them stop & consider the destructive path they were following. My apologies if I misunderstood your intentions. Writers of free verse have become accustomed to people telling us it's "not real poetry because it doesn't rhyme." Poetry is whatever it chooses to be, whether it is words penned in calligraphy on parchment or a flower steadfastly pushing its way through the concrete that would keep it submerged in the soil.
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I shall ply poetry all my days...in poor pen of indeible ink so not one word, or thought, or feeling, be missed by me , if no one else.
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I think this is just a damn straight bloody good piece of writing, it tells how it is, straight up no fluffing about. Well done on a brilliant work
Karen
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I meant every word. For some, reading slash and gnash peotry that begs attention, is enough. For some, neat little lines of fluff and stuff is enough. As a reader, I enjoy those poems that touch truth, even my truth. As a writer, I am committed to writing exactly how I see things, for me, not for anyoen else. But, upon sharing, if they strike a note that belongs in someone else's chord, then that is a bonus. We are all ripples int he Unvierse..mine happen to sometimes be a type of longing to understand...being raw and real enugh to dare to share the urest form of my experiences.
I do thank you for your comment. I do not thank you because I needed approval, but everyone needs to know they fit in a tribe somewhere.
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Ah, a panapoly of feelings danced upon my poor head. And who should do it better than you? The joy in experience that words bring. So many salutations and halleluiahs contained in one or two tight phrases.
This poem was delicious. I would heartily recommend that anyone make a meal out of it. I will keep it in my cupboards and always know they are full.
Love, Tom B.
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Thank you, Tom. As you see, this was not written for a contest..I would ahte to make others feel like they have to read it. I wrote this for no real reason other than to recognize that it is ok not to like to read some poems, that some poems can be raw and real, and that the voice in this poem merely considers the thought that everyone finds different ways to comfort what lfie may do...some fall into obesssions of all kidns, and some simply honor what has happened and stay raw and real about it.
I do appreciate your comments and I have a feeling you know about being raw and real.
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Angst and Poetry
Grab angst by its crinkled throat and take it in,
dissolve it, chew on its bones
and maybe it will disappear
for reader and writer.
This seems to be a contemporary poem exhibited essentially in predeliction for free verse among those whose reluctance or inability to rhyme propels them to seek outlets for their personal dissatisfaction and thus the reader/writer interdependence and at times interchangeability provides what some feel a pitiful life support system for those in want in several senses of the term.
Some feel that poetry is harmony, pattern, and music while insistence on free verse offers a convenient vehicle to "push your pity, your pathos,
your obsessive need" for too many, with insufficient skill, attention or sustained effort involved
my 2 cents -
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Carol's writing holds "harmony, pattern & music" deeply within the flesh & bones of everything she writes, be it free verse, rhyme or various structured forms. I have seen many of her different sides & styles, drawn profoundly by her talented pen. Her heart is as wide as can be & her soul is as deep as can be. She stretches the boundaries of imagination, the limitations of what people think poetry "should be". Poetry is whatever it chooses to be in a single moment: no one person or authority holds the ability or power to define it. shewolfnative's writing & voice is one of the truest & dearest sights & sounds I have ever read/seen/heard/experienced in over 35 years of my own writing experience. I have watched her writing flourish in the almost 3 years I've known her. She remains true to her Self. She is neither reluctant or inable to compose rhymes; I've read examples of her own rhymes & rhythms. She chooses free verse as it is her right to do so...as well as it is my right to do so - this choice does not make either of us less of a Poet. Yes, some people do write only to rid themselves of demons with the power of spilled ink, much to no avail. That is not the case here. For every one poem of angst she's written to relieve her anxious & anguished thoughts, I have read so many more lifting the human race above the gutter we seem to choose to reside in. I must say, I was quite shocked to have read this review written by one that shewolfnative & I both hold as dear to us. There are so many more "writers" out there, especially on this site, who could surely have earned & possibly benefitted from your critique. Carol deserves so much better - as a writer, as a woman, as a caring human being who has done so much to benefit this world.
"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” ~ Oscar Wilde, "Lady Windermere’s Fan", 1892, Act III. -
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"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” ~ Oscar Wilde, "Lady Windermere’s Fan", 1892, Act III.
AH YES, THAT IS IT... I am a star-gazer but I never forget what I stand on.
Ty my friend, this is truly a gift from you... and, speakign of gift...keep checking your mail.
I do not wish for you to stew or brew... a say was had...and, perhaps, I need to look further into my peotry to make sure that I always keep a balance for balance's sake.
This is precious to me as is the critique...being hunmbled is a good thing, by either. and take ye to bed and rest now..... the war is never won by those who have no strength to hardly pray, let alone praise.
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Two cents richer
Then I am two cents richer for it.
I am not a tight form writer, I guess my Muse has tried and given up. I enjoy a well-written poem, no matter form. If you thought me dissatisfied with life, you judge me ill. I LOVE life. I am capable of honoring my shadows as well as sunshine. I do not propel silly obsessions by handing it over to phantoms… I deal with life in the raw and real… not always the easiest way. This place, AP, is merely a place for me to get something down. It is not the end all to these reams of poems of mine. I choose wisely, the ones I wish to take further and work hard on them before they hit the real light of day.
I realize my poems read bloggy, and so be it. It is what I thought, what I felt, what burbled up and out. Perhaps I have a reason to write such just now, and that is enough for me. I do not hold my breath waiting for someone to affirm me or my feelings. I know what integrity I have as a writer, as a person, and I take no drugs to ease or appease any angst that life rains down. Perhaps that is the bet of it. I am old enough that what you see is what you get. I have nothing to prove or disprove.
My writing is not my life either. I am an artist, I do community service, I have given everything I was capable of in a career. I still maintain contact with every community I lived in and help those who helped me (teacher’s aides, etc.) with their goal to go on to further their education, as I promised when I left that community. Several have their degrees now and that makes me feel as if there is some hope for those fly-in communities that had little to offer. Many hours are spent on the telephone and the internet, helping them clarify their thoughts for papers they must write, understanding the materials they must, and continue to be their cheerleader as they falter through life as best they can. It was this ability to be real and raw that helped me do what I did and be successful in changing my life and others.
It is important to me, that if someone chooses to read my poetry, that it touches them with understanding. Life is not easy and the best way to deal with it is to honor all feelings.
“a convenient vehicle to "push your pity, your pathos,
your obsessive need" for too many, with insufficient skill, attention or sustained effort involved”
You are welcome not to read my poetry if it feels such but I will not write what others think I should write because of whatever reason. I have never been a good sheep. I spend hours and hours contemplating long before poems are written. I do a great deal of soul searching. If soul responds as it does, then that is enough for me. My “to do” file is full of thoughts waiting to brew.
Thank you for your two cents, though. It is ok not to like all writings… thus, How To read, or not read, this poet… put the book down if it is too raw or real for you.”
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I sing with the choir already here assembled...AMEN!...Peace, Rhonda...and I can't seem to put the book down, so please keep writing..
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ah, it is a given... I can not put the pen down either. ty for your kind comments.
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You sure told it how it is, M'Lady! You keep hollering for Heaven to return, and now that you've provided instructions, maybe, jus' maybe, more will hear your soul's song...
"Feel it. Touch the skin of it.
It breathes. Sometimes my breath is stale
and you will turn your head,
but, imagine what it took to eat what rots it."
I wholeheartedly agree with marc, AMEN!!
~ Nicholas
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Thank you, my friend. I have some writing to do and I am on a roll about what poetry means to me, I guess. thank you for reading and commenting. I always enjoy your remarks.
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AMEN, ONCE AGAIN SISTER, ABLOODYMEN!!!!!! I think it would be damn near impossible for any poet to add to these sentiments . . . they are simply perfect!!!
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Thank you, Marc. I appreciate your comments, always. You make it feel good to write and write again. pen friend.
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