Grief does not become me;
I hide as a child,
curled under the covers,
rocking myself softly
to a tearful sleep.
I am too old to be
in this much pain.
I am too tired to breathe
but here I am, awake and aware,
feeling things a child never felt,
wishing for things
grown-ups are reluctant
to admit they need.
The red-rimmed eyes,
the mouth pressed into
a joyless pink line -
if I could shape it
into a question mark,
I would look into your eyes
and ask you that for which
my heart cannot find words.
11 Mar 08
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this hurts. nice one
Thank you. Sometimes it hurts to be grown up and have to bear things.
Beautiful and honest writing. The entire poem speaks of and with incredible wisdom. Definitely a favorite for me and a "10" for you. :-)
p.s. - and yes...sometimes it hurts to be grown up and to have to bear things. i'm scared a lot these days and don't know exactly what i'm afraid of.
the stages of darkness to birth the light: and you so shine when your hearts afire but we all to sputter and fume when we've got nothing left to consume - This piece captures the anguishes and the bottomless pit in which we fall and neither all thy piety nor wit can assuage this darkness nor all thy tears wash away one moment of it -- a nod to the Persian Poet Omar Khayyam for part of that write from his wondrous Rubaiyat -- this piece of yours deepens the colours of dread - the Darkness that invents the Light. In the Yogic tradition they have demarcated 4 phases when moving through each one of the 33 Rings of Splendour of Sanskrit lineage. Upon entering one of the points is an elation, a bliss they call it which can last moments, days or years depending upon the Yogi. Ecstasy. After which there are two phases of depression. The agonizing phase which carries the anguishes and emergence of past painful impressions and the falling darknesses. Then there is the dust and ashes phase which is the big grey nothing! Either of these phases will have their alloted time. Then there is the breakthrough phase where one is vibrationally enraptured and the work continues to the next ring of splendour. Art deepens you and the deep dark infinite space is the Mother of God and Light - we must go to darkness and rest and recuperate to dream a new life - nevertheless the pain of this transfiguration is real and your Poem does deliver this -
might change 'and ask you for that for which' to 'and ask you that for which', it's a small thing but it might read better, maybe it's just me
the feeling in this poem is so clear it almost becomes my own. a success.
Yes, good catch on that which. I knew it wasn't quite right but not sure...
Much better on "that which." I was gonna suggest that yesterday, but I was tired and couldn't process very well. Today it inDEEDulously reads better! GREAT poem again, Isabelle. You really NAILED this one. :-)
Thanks, Scott. Still stunned, less happy! haha
the price we pay for getting old
and not necessarily growing up?
very nice piece.
Sort of. It's more like the pain you think you'll never experience again because you ARE grown up.
We are all children in our hearts, where the love lives and sometimes dies.
i think we all just become better kids
in the end.
Apparently, not all of us! haha
ok...most of us.
i'd cut "I am" from L8, and try and do away with "joyless".
this is ok, its a bit too, umm, poetic for me.
DeformedLion, let me think about cutting I am from that line. I was trying to express extreme weariness, as if you're breathing hard - I am too tired...etc.
The joyless is important because I am usually a happy person. To see me totally joyless is unusual, except for a very few people. Thanks for the suggestions, appreciated.
yes, I am works very well for me in this too. but, i did that "i'm tired and i want..." thing, and i know that came directly out of the crystal palace of my head brain. that it's real in other words to me.
"too poetic"... what is this place, sony how to program your vcr? really.
I like to create order from my chaos, that's all.
incongruous title shape what into a ? your mouth?
too many colours ( valentine's red and pink)
what a lamer comment. why not read this aloud and see the remarkable thing she's given us. this is isabelle -- this is isabelle as a poet -- read deeply.
For those who think "I am" is too poetic, it is the way I speak in "real."
actually, sometimes your poetry gets lost in chatter and this voice never comes out.
I feel like a wise man just whispered in my ear--if you want to learn how to write poetry, read the work of Isabelle5. Nicely done.
PaulS, I am honored (and made nervous) by that very kind comment.