and the years didnt matter anymore
the heartache had dripped slowly
puddling around her feet
evaporating
until it was no more
she supposed that if you looked closely
it had stained her eyes a little
stealing some of the sparkle
but it really didnt matter anymore
you see the heartache had dripped slowly
and the rhythm had soothed her
and somehow
somewhere
she had found her peace
the reflection in the mirror didnt scare her anymore
lines framing her face as age crept softly
internal child so playful
but
it just didnt matter anymore
floating in melancholy
she smiled
Author notes
one of my good friends said i should write as i havent written for a few months... so here it is. slightly forced but never mind.
Lisa x
Written January 13th, 2005
What did you think
Comments
1 - 17 of 17
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Your writing still seems so sad. I hope your life is better, lisa?
It's been a few years since I've seen this site, but I felt I should pop by and say hi. -
Hey, I used to read your poetry a lot...although I don't remember how many comments I ever left...I was TheLittleOne...anyways, I remember reading this but I don't see a comment soo...I thought I'd tell you how awesome this is! And I hope you do write again
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appppppplause
it seems to me you've found peace...can i say I'm happy for you...and a lil jealous at the same time..miss talkin to u hope all is well good to c the butterfly flyin again...hugs di
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hey now, you don't know how good it is to see you still around.
this piece does seem a little forced but that's not a bad thing. I've come to realize myself that poems are written one of two ways - with (or without) skill or with the heart. the best poems are written using both.
"you see the heartache had dripped slowly
and the rhythm had soothed her"
I was going to say something about the 'you see' but I think it fits nicely. it's not needed but it gives the poem its flavor, the narrative, musing voice that I hear when reading it.
I thought you had abandoned this place. glad to see you haven't.
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comfort
Great the way you describe how we grow more comfortable with ourselves as we grow older. The older we get the more we have to give,and yet it seems the less others are interested in what we say and do.
"the heartache had dripped slowly
puddling around her feet
evaporating
until it was no more"
And we get over so many of our hangups. Thanks for this lovely write.
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this will sound a lot better if it was made first person,, well done
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good, with HUGE upside
It's taken me a really long time to get around to commenting on any of your work, and I can't conscience it anymore. Good thing, too. This piece has real feeling in it, and it isn't the kind of feeling I had when I drank 10 shots of Goldschlager. (Goldschlager Blvd should be a one-way street, if you get my meaning.)
The title is perfect, because all by itself it provokes the question, "Has she decided to throw in the towel, or has she risen above adversity?" In retrospect, actually, it's even more clever, though, because I would say that the former connotation is the stronger, as regards the title alone ... yet you wind up going the other way.
There is some well-crafted subtlety here; it's hard to hide one emotion in its opposite. You use defeatist, fatalistic language in describing how an ostensibly cruel, miserable fate was conquered. I NEVER get to read that sort of thing on AP, because almost nobody is up to it. I love your ending, too, because you left the "exclamation point," as it were, off the page; your hell bleeds to death before my eyes here, largely without any "This is what I'm about to say." Then I get to experience your watershed moment with you, but am spared the greeting card. What an excellent image contrast: To smile while floating in melancholy.
I think this would go POW! in a really impressive way if you did some ruthless editing. That's a huge compliment coming from me, because it means I wish I could be the one who gets to edit it. This has huge potential upside, and it's good already. Elegance in concept... You can't fake elegance. [Did you catch that? In America we would use four dots there. ]
Not perfect, however.
Nits:
I think L1 is too much like your title, too soon.
Not sure how to fix that (although I'm sure I'd think of something), because this piece benefits greatly by that repetition, and evolving it slightly each time you use it helps keep your reader's eye. I would say chop line one entirely, but I love that this begins with "and."
.
.
OH! I can't help myself. Please don't hate me. This is such a cool poem.
How about something like:
L1: and [say something using "demise and futility" language that foreshadows this poem's conclusion in a clever, initially invisible way]
L2:
L3: the heartache had dripped slowly
L4: puddled around her feet
L5: evaporated with the years
[chop! no space]
L8: she supposed that if you looked closely
L9: it had stained her eyes a little
L10: stolen some of the sparkle
L11:
L12: but it didn't matter anymore ["really" is a tell]
//
If this were my poem, I would try to find some way of removing "you" from L8, so that the "fourth wall" remains intact until "you see .." <--[Now don't I seem British?] If "you" didn't show up until then, I think it would be more compelling when you subsequently address your reader directly on L14.
//
L13:
L14: you see the heartache had dripped slowly
L15: and the rhythm had soothed her
[chop! Maybe run L16, L17 through the Cuisinart, and put a one-line transition here; "and finally," perhaps.]
L19: [and] she had found her peace
["Is she dead? Shit! She died! How sad!"]
L22, L23 are gems.
Totally undertand the need for L24. It triggers your irony. As-is, though, it speaks pretty loud, and explicit internal children are almost always either laughing or dying. Maybe say the same thing using descriptive language whose tonality contrasts to a lesser extent, but still feeds your excellent segue into the ending. Talk about her child-aspect somehow, maybe, and perhaps in a wistful sort of way, with a little rise at the end of it.
I would love to see "but" on the same line with "it just .."
Also, there are a million flavors of "she smiled," and you could really turn that line into a sledge hammer if you obsessed over it.
OK, so now that I've told you how I would edit MY your poem, maybe I'll just re-emphasize that I think YOUR your poem is no slouch. Now I don't wonder why you read what I write. I don't think I'll live long enough to read all of your poems, but this one, at least, sounds like the sort of thing I hear when I can't help writing. If you decide to play with it, please send me a link.
You insulted your writing previously; I think you were flat wrong about that.
~Morgan
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very nice write keep up the good work. i cant wait to read some more of your work.if you get the chance to read some of my work cany you give me some feed back on what you think?
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The use of the one lined stanzas were very powerfull and your repition was beautiful. I love this poem, it was very well written!
-butterfly -
Eventually we all come to terms with ourself and our demons. We reach out only to find that others can only help guide, but it is up to us to make the changes and bring about the self healing we so much need. Spills coagulate with time, dried up and lost to the past and the memories that were...
Hugs...Eddy -
great write! nothing much else to say... the 2 words sum it all up. it was really nice, had a great flow and everything. good job!!!
sara -
Overall I liked this poem. The emotions and imagery you used worked well. Some of the aspects you used where wonderfully original too. However when i where reading i couldn't help feeling something was missing, like there could be more to the poem than what you've let on. It's tough starting up after a while, but even so you shouldn't really force it. Thanks for sharing and i hope you get back into writing soon.
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The past is banished......well done lisa.
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I can completely identify with this poem, except for the words she and her. I really like the way you described the eyes, they do change with mood and stain in time.
I'm glad you found it in you to write when you're not feeling so terrible. Good feelings can be poetic too, think great grandchildren reading who you were.
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as always doug you understand my work more than you realise. you shouldnt feel you cant comment because its personal though, i value your opinion. good luck with the beard
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sometimes, when trying to comment on a work, i get a little nervious... i don't want to say the wrong thing... and as it is with you you write strong emotional pieces and i never want to offend...
i love the mirror lines... i sence great personal change in this... i have heard that is someone drastically changes their apperance they have had reached a profound mile marker in their life...
i am growing an amish beard...
doug -
I love the imagery you have created in these two lines
'the heartache had dripped slowly
puddling around her feet'
shows in a way how she's falling apart. nice stuff
much love
Sophie x
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