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in this dream i am nowhere near home





a hutch, these dishes,
the milk-glass cake plate with small raised roses
no longer belong to me

in this dream
i am a trespasser

 
               in one room, a skeletal spider spills from a clear vase
               and lands beneath the lazy susan where dust clumps and dried insects gather

 

 

              in another,

              a betty crocker cookbook falls apart -in my hand

              a tight faucet spits orange


              i am thirsty but will  wait


 just inside the back door,
mother's yard coat and a bent rake hang, on side by side nails


            the yard
            is full of red and yellow leaves

            i realize it is fall
            i realize it is fall


in this dream
there are no words- no faceless footfall
                              no sense of belonging

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

m 

Author notes

for ma who loved autumn best
june 7, 1931- October 24, 2003

In a list

A contest entry

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Comments

1 - 44 of 44

  • porksnorkel
    November 8, 2008

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    Love this one. You know, i swear I commented on this bitch before. I know i read it long ago. It is very similar to that one where I said I hate the title or whatever. the dead insects gathering in the floor silt, the surreal feeiling of displacement in one's own environment, which only time has changed, well, time and the consequent change in perspective.

    Sometimes, that sense of belonging or not belonging carries over outside the dream into the waking hours and remains. the artist struggles to get it back by cultivating the waking dream, the kind of anesthesia of consciousness necessary for the surgery. I am a tresspasser in my own life

    Today, I have come in from raking those red and yellow leaves, scooping piles of crispy fire, flinging flat sparks into the gathering wind.

    "they yard is on fire with red-yellow leaves"

    at the end of this one, you may consider just...

    "so thirsty"


    • Cat
      November 9, 2008
      Edit | Reply
      you found this poem.

      and yes- so thirsty

  • zara
    November 7, 2008
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    Congrats, Mary - love this poem.

    z


  • jantastic gold member
    November 6, 2008

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    Some very effective use of repetition in this piece and I love where dead insects gather. I think you know but I will remind you again how I admire your talent with imagery. Whether working with metaphor or with more straightforward structure you always find some unique turns of phrase and your attention to line breaks and structure is also well-noted. Not sure I've ever told you of the growth I've recognized in your work and your voice since I started reading you way back whenever.

    Thank you.




  • zochit2me gold member
    November 4, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    I love the way you use the phrase "in this dream" to carry the reader through its phases. The kind of step back feel to it like looking through the mirror if you will. And the repeat line at the end enhances the anticipation of this dream like feel...

    love love absolutely love the way you ended it...

    Mary Mary can I play inside your head for an hour or two daily ...pretty please...lol.

    amazing write.

    ♥Becky♥


  • Rembrandt Clarke
    November 2, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    pure beauty, you are simply going and describing. being and doing what was there, but in those pure simple words of nothing hanging on a dream somewhere it happens, these words mean so much, the pour aesthetics all over the page... pure beauty..


  • nancy drew
    October 30, 2008

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    love-love this. i really don't know what else to say about it, except that it touched me-as all good poetry should.

    helen~


  • Mistressnomaster
    October 29, 2008

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    I helped My Sister clean out Mum's place, She felt it was home and I felt like it was just old and dank. But I was strong whereas My sister had need of love, funny but I never felt it from Mum for either of us, guess it is all a perception thing.

    MM


  • projectalice1793
    October 28, 2008

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    amazing,,,

    wow. this is simply amazing. just.. amazing... Good luck on the contest. Rtf!


  • dp robertson
    October 27, 2008
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    How nicely done is this? What a great piece of writing & remembering

    • Cat
      October 30, 2008
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      thank you so much...

      i just found this..

      i haven't had enough time to stop over and read your liberal piece in it's entirety but i suspect it is right up my alley


  • Luna Tique Fringe
    October 24, 2008

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    mary, mary... this makes me want to put away my pen and paper..sigh..but i'm just stuborn enought not to, lol.

  • Suzanne Dia
    October 24, 2008

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    I had one of those cookbooks.
    I like the dissociation you so aptly capture here.
    The same thing that dreams seems to do to me; putting me there but not really allowing me to exist in the space.. The Observer, and patient or not, I have no choice but to sit back and watch until the dream decides to release me from its shackles.

    Maybe I'm wrong, but that's where you took me.

    Very happy to find this here, Mary
    and a little sad at the dusty air that resides even after I have finished reading.

    Strong, strong writing.



  • silverfish
    October 24, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    for me, this narrative follows the familiar contours of dream-time interrupted, with its sad sentiment of loss that retreats a little more every season into the past and a foreshadowing of a coming season colored with midlife angst. i fear this poem. -silverfish


  • charcoal
    October 23, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    It's a series of still life paintings , each made even more meaningful and poignant because of the context. everything is falling apart but has so much character and history.

    you say it's a dream, but even if you didn't, there's a dreamlike quality to the whole write. like someone moving through a house in a dream-state.

    It's a poem to read when you want to quiet your mind, still that chatter and go deep into yourself.

  • Rowan gold member
    October 23, 2008
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    Loved, loved this...
    you express nostalgia beautifully.


  • Mairi bheag gold member
    October 23, 2008

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    Wonderfully vivid, disturbing, echoey... I think this is the first ever poem where I have read the words "lazy susan", though I dare say if one reads enough poetry one will come across all the words that ever were!

    The poem asks me a question - am I seeing the family home in a dream, or visiting it after the last family member has died, and all these familiar objects are unfamiliar because there is no one to set them in context? The sense of a slight shift, a slight alienation, is palpable.

    It's a pleasure to come across work like this.


  • notorious gold member
    October 23, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    I think you put a ton of thought into what you do,
    and I also think all your thoughts
    add up to perfection.

    Every line and line break is insanely poignant to me when I read (and reread). It all feels like a careful observation in a scene that I can conjure really easily.

    "in this dream
    i am a trespasser"
    I adore that; being a trespasser in your own dream...what a thought.

    "in one room, a spider's collapsed skeleton spills from a clear vase
    and lands beneath the lazy susan where dust clumps and dried insects gather

    in another room, the cracked spine of a betty crocker cookbook falls apart -in my hand

    a tight faucet spits orange"
    WOW. Love the continuation of two different rooms and their immaculate descriptions...Just love, love, love this. Full of colorful emotions, and jesus, I sound like a cliché. :/

    The repetition of 'thirsty'; adored to the infinite extent.

    Incredibly, insanely, unbelievably good.

    Jessica






  • Peteskid gold member
    October 23, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    and the water carries with it so much of the feeling, something we wish for, feel that we need, so near ....so far away. Wonderful sense of a dream that speaks to us, revealing ...even to ourselves...PK


  • Night Hope gold member
    October 22, 2008

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    Poignant & moving beyond belief, Mary. I can certainly identify, from my own experiences. A powerful & stunning piece.


  • marc creamore
    October 22, 2008

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    This made me think of my own mother and of how thankful that I can still keep her company . . . she is 81 years old and oh so lucid . . . a moving and tender write Marycat . . .

    Marc


  • Jersene gold member
    October 22, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    Stunning


    You have such brilliance of bringing everyday images into your poems giving them importance, meaning...despite the feeling of detachment I also get the feeling of holding on and treasuring what little bits of her you have left.

    This is moving, and so heartfelt. I love it


  • Wandika gold member
    October 22, 2008
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    the feelings are strong

    as they parallel my own loss.
    Well written Mary.

    Jim


  • Cannonsfire
    October 22, 2008

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    Brought a lump to the throat C


  • sailor ptolema
    October 22, 2008

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    lovethis.

    i really like this. i like it has a strong sense of emotional loss; and at the same time, detachment. Also, it's interesting reading, and visualizing this scene through layered eyes. I'm seeing it through the narrator recounting a dream. and this adds to a sort of alienation; that the narrator feels.
    this is so very exceptional, mary.

    meg


    • Cat
      October 22, 2008

      Edit | Reply
      thank you meg.. i am glad that is how it reads to you...

      • sailor ptolema
        October 22, 2008
        Edit | Reply
        de nada. I've been reading a short story by Aleksander Hemon that deals with the idea of detachment and alienation,...and this reminded me of it


  • BehindTheShadow
    October 22, 2008
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    .

  • Shannon
    October 22, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    oh my god, and another thing. this part:

    "mother's yard coat and a bent rake hang, on side by side nails / the yard / is full of red and yellow leaves"

    reminds me so much of ANOTHER Hall poem. You seeing your mother's yard coat, like a remnant of her, but she's gone, and the leaves in the yard...I am assuming she gardened? Well, that's image I got. So, yes, it reminded me of another favorite Hall poem of mine. His wife gardened. And she died. And he's looking at the abandoned garden, helpless not only because he can't garden, but the flowers, they are helpless without her, too. sigh. And like you, he mentions her coat. Isn't poetry amazing? How it connects so many people, even when we all have such different lives. It's breathtaking. Anyway, sorry for going on about it. Here's the poem:

    http://www.wildriverreview.com/poetry_weeds.php

    • Cat
      October 22, 2008
      Edit | Reply
      donald hall lived not far from me here in the
      ann arbor area- he is a bit of a celebrity here- so to be compared even on a level that one poem draws to mind the sense of another is a compliment beyond compare.

      i opened the first
      and realized it is very long and will need to be savored this evening when i have more time- thank you so much for your kind words and time.

      m

  • Shannon
    October 22, 2008
    Edit | Reply
    beautiful. I was just discussing that odd experience of dreaming of home and how it's always that "home" even if you haven't been there in years...That's what I got out of this, and of course, when I saw the author's note, it punched me even more. I love the repetition of "I realize it is fall" with the second in italics. Perfect. Very much a dream-state portrayed, especially with the faucet spitting orange. And this thirst theme. Kept me thinking about how, in a dream, we are stuck in cement and can't run or get to that place. Very much a "feeling in the gut" poem. You know, where the reader is left feeling something quite strong in the gut. Man, this goes so well with Lisa's fall poem I just read. The idea of loss, passage of time, fall. Circular time. I'm sure your mother's spirit sings to you from the falling leaves -- as if she's trying to reach her arms around you via the foliage. I recommend, as I did to Lisa, Donald Hall's poem: "Kicking the Leaves," if you haven't read it. Here, I think you'll like it: http://www.wildriverreview.com/poetry_kicking.php


  • Utok Bulinaw
    October 22, 2008
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    • Cat
      October 22, 2008
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      so good to see your name


  • motel silver member
    October 22, 2008

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    your treatment of everyday images and the subtle messages they carry ... it's great. the feeling of the fall from grace ... "... I realize it is fall ..."
    I always look forward to reading your pieces . they are always so charged but never in an aggressive style. it's like watching a beautiful vivid leaf fall and feeling thankful one can really see and appreciate the sight.
    thanks.


    • Cat
      October 22, 2008
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      you always leave the nicest comments- i appreciate that so much.

      M


  • tara wilson gold member
    October 22, 2008

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    this is so beautiful, Mary, I love this...I love her yard coat and rake...and all the vivid snippets you show us in this poem/dream...excellent & a pleasure to read. Being home, especially with loved ones there, always seems to quench 'a thirst', yes, it is like a thirst...that we have to be there among them.


  • AJ Morelli gold member
    October 22, 2008

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    absolutely beautiful and incredibly moving... the imagery is perfectly chosen...

    this is such a mary poem, in voice and form and the ability to find the most human parts of us...

    xo


  • iverbthenoun
    October 22, 2008
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1 - 44 of 44