So you start to say goodbye
by not saying goodbye at all
Things like not touching a thing
in his room, even dirty balled socks
under a corner of the desk
Or a half glass of coke
that went flat as flapjacks
three months and seven days ago
And even though we hated his music,
now we play it every day like a symphony
against our nerves
The conductor of our life is no longer ourselves
but some half thought out words he last said
As if wisdom were something everyone
can spit out with their gum
His face stuck though
Mom put it on each wall and table
of the house, in gilded frames shining
like the center of a sun
And it was almost like he was never gone.
Author notes
: )
A contest entry
- Grieving (Round 2 – Invite Only) by Beating.
450 points, ended December 14, 2007, 13 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Controlled Vomiting: Can you puke beautifully? by onerios13.
1400 points, ended August 17, 2008, 24 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 12 of 12
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i could actually feel this poem. the whole grieving process. you can't let go of the memories because you're afraid if you do then you have to admit your loved one is gone. i think you did an excellent job with this. i didn't read any other contest entries and even if i had i wouldn't compare them to this. i really love how you put these often hard to accept or explain feelings into words.
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Now this is beautiful. Truly beautiful. The emotional vomit is clearly evident from the get-go. There are lines that can be cleaned up for the benefit of the "controlled" part of it all, but it's only a few nitpicks here and there.
And it was supposed to be anonymous. You weren't supposed to put your name in the author notes. LOL -
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OH! I'm soo sorry! I had to put it there for another contest and I didn't even remember. Sorry.
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Very poignant. Still and deep, with such gracious grief. Unfortuantely this failed to puke...it sang too well to do such a thing.
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this poem is great. i like how it starts out so sad but in the end his spirit is still around and it doesn't seem so sad and thanks for your comment on my page, i appreciate it
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i can't decide whether this is sad or not. death is always sad. but the whole thing about feeling like he was never gone... well... i don't know if that is comforting... or sad that his disappearance is just not accepted.
and then it kind of had a sarcastic tone to it... bitter... like about the music and the wisdom...
i don't know. can't decide what kind of feel i get for this poem.
awesomely written though, and totally enjoyed. but i'm still wondering how to interpret it.
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I guess you should feel however you want to feel about this. It's something you really have to go through to understand. Because when someone close to you dies you are sad and angry and bitter and all kinds of things all at once. It's confusing you know?
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How we hold one close.
How we choose our rituals.
Its only distance that will come full circle.
Such poetic observation.
Such fine work. CHEERS!
BLESSINGS,
LOWELL. -
I totally get what you're saying. Sometimes we just can't accept the fact that someones gone, and we try to keep them here by pretending. It gets to a point where you almost feel like the person is really there. It's tough. I love how you got those feelings out there. Good job!
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very well done-
i know the memorials mother's mount
in the face of a dead child..
i think you want the word gilded rather than glided
m
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Wow, this has quite an impact, by making us think of our rituals and our ways of coping and denying. Well done. Great visuals in your words.
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I was going to comment on this poem but it struck me in such a way that all I could think to do was share something. It's not the important things that I can't forget about her. It's just that everytime I get a drink from some fast food place or movie theatre, I put two straws in the cup because that's how she liked it. She would always steal a sip from my drink even if she had her own. That's something I don't think I can ever let go of. I don't think I want to, no matter how much it hurts when I do. Thank you for writing this.
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