lille_eskimit Posted December 13, 2004 Report Share Posted December 13, 2004 I hardly ever write poems. The only time I ever do express myself in this way is when I'm in pain...blinding pain that goes to bed with me at night and wakes me up in the morning...Not a pleasant sleep partner, I know...much prefer snuggling up to David! How strange that the very force which brings me down can also (sometimes) fire up my think tank...But then again, this doesn't happen all that often...Most of the time, I just stop functioning, and can barely form a coherent thought, let alone write a poem...I can't vouch for my state of mind when this emotional angst takes over, which probably doesn't say much about this offering, so you can rubbish it all you like...It doesn't change what is there...I could speak till my throat is devoid of liquid sustenance, and I still won't be able to say all I need to say...This poem is just a fraction of what's in my head... It's actually featured at my site with some of my other work, so some of you may have already read it...just thought I'd share it with the rest of BPD World. Anyhow, here goes: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Do They Know? Do they know? The children who frolic outside In the street with baseball caps and tracksuits, That it is never cold enough To freeze whispers in the night. That the world is, after all, flat And you can keep falling. But it doesn't really matter, If that cosmic black hole Promised on those unwashed yellow sheets Is wide enough To keep the threads together. Do they know? The ladies gossiping behind the counter Of that grotty old cafe across the road, That the ceiling is chipped and cracked. That the grease doesn't really cover up anything And the mirrored walls reflect too much. That cigarette smoke mingling With steam from a coffee mug Dance to their own tune, While the radio breaks down Over songs meant for others. Do they know? The passengers at the bus station, What to do when they get off the wrong stop. That a ticket doesn't always come in Return Or with refunds, That eleven hours on a cushioned coach full of titters Hears less laughter Than ten minutes in a battered car. That the journey home is often the other way So it is impossible to travel light. Yet, smiles can be found In something left behind That is better left unpacked. Do they know? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I wrote Do They Know some time ago, and it was discussed in a creative writing workshop. The people in my group said they really liked it and suggested that I try to get it published somewhere, like in a National Poetry/Literary Magazine (Magma is currently 'considering' it), but I'm not so sure...They're prolly just being polite... I'm sacred, I guess...Afraid of rejection, afraid that people who are better than me (the 'experts') will just laugh their heads off as my work is crap, too 'greeting-card', unoriginal, and I should just know my own place. As I don't write much poetry, I don't really know what it's all about. This poem's not particularly about mental disorders, but it is about loss, sacrifice, isolation, pain, and grief...all things we can identify with. It is also about hope. I wrote it at a point of time when something major happened to me and I was feeling really low. There's an image which accompanies this poem...one of my attempts at 'voetry', but because it involves nudity, I didn't think it right to post the picture version here (although it is at my site). It's not a rude image, but I just don't want to offend anyone. I'm not entirely convinced the poem works with that picture however...and am still debating as to whether I should submit it to other publications in that form...Any suggestions would be great... I'm just not sure...twiddling my thumbs here, umming and ahhing...thinking that maybe I should just forget the whole idea...I don't really want to be a writer all that much anyway...I don't seem to want to be anything all that much lately! :( Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Lauren Posted December 13, 2004 Report Share Posted December 13, 2004 That cigarette smoke mingling With steam from a coffee mug Dance to their own tune, While the radio breaks down Over songs meant for others. I LOVE that! Your creative writing group was right. It most certainly has a lot of potential. See, now im confused. I could constructively crit it. But I dont know if you want that. If you did want to try and get it published I can give you a whole heap of links/publishers/ people to bug by phone and E mail The amount of times I got rejected before anything was unreal. I gave up for a while. Then spent six months or so working on my form and researching places that where most likely to want my style of writing. My work is black. Im comfortable with that, But I guess a lot of the great british public dont want to read it over there coffee L Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Alexa Posted December 13, 2004 Report Share Posted December 13, 2004 I like it! It's cool...says a lot...meaningful! Don't let your fear of rejection hold you back, you have talent. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
RunnyWabbit Posted December 13, 2004 Report Share Posted December 13, 2004 Charme, Your poem made me cry. It made me think about no one really knows what anyone else goes through, and even though we try to explain, they dont really get it. Its no ones fault, it just is. I found your poem enlightening, I think that you should present it in whatever way you are comfortable with, this is an expression of you, not anyone else. I think you did a fabulous job. It gets my vote. Take care. wabbit Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
lille_eskimit Posted December 15, 2004 Author Report Share Posted December 15, 2004 Many thanks for the compliments and kind encouragement... Your poem made me cry. It made me think about no one really knows what anyone else goes through, and even though we try to explain, they dont really get it. Its no ones fault, it just is. I was actually crying when I wrote it, but I wasn't expecting quite the same reaction from readers! My work is usually quite cryptic, so not everyone will read it in the same way...It's great that you picked up on the whole 'the world just carries on regardless of what's happening in my life' theme, as that's central to Do They Know. The funny thing is, when I wrote this for David, he was composing his own poem for me...at the same exact moment! Neither if us had planned it...it was something spontaneous, so to find out that his actions were mirroring mine at the other end of the country (we were not living together then), was a bit of a spooky experience...but in a good way... It's not the first time something like that had happened to us though...When we first met, we communicated with each other through long emails that covered roughly 10 sides of A4 each and every day...Anyhow, I remember quoting the lyrics of 'You're Gorgeous' at the start of one of those emails...and coincidentally, he was actually playing that song when he received the message! I could constructively crit it. But I dont know if you want that. Oh, it has been dissected, probed and analysed through the many stages of the literary lab by various poetry enthusiasts, so one more in-depth critique wouldn't hurt...although putting oneself through the academic regimen of such an exercise is not quite my idea of a leisurely way to pass the time! The amount of times I got rejected before anything was unreal. Hey! Even J K Rowling got rejected hundreds of times, and by top publishers, no less! The only work I've ever had published are magazine articles, which were hardly impressive...I keep meaning to write a novel, but often have trouble putting my thoughts to paper... If you did want to try and get it published I can give you a whole heap of links/publishers/ people to bug by phone and E mail Oooh yes, please...I've already compiled my own list of the usual suspects, but the more the better, I say...email addresses/websites if at all possible...I know it sounds awfully silly, but I'm terrified of calling people over the phone...I know, I know, I won't make a very good journalist...It's one of the reasons I'm having second thoughts regarding my career options...a little late though! I used to be a lot worse as I kept having panic attacks...The first time I had to arrange an interview over the phone, I started hiccuping non-stop! I've only written three poems in my life (plus a couple of short-stories and a play about 10 years ago!)...Do The Know was my second attempt...Like I said, I'm not in the habit of waxing lyrical...maybe it's just 'cos I'm not very motivated...hehehe...or maybe I'm just plain lazy! :rolleyes: Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Recommended Posts
Archived
This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.