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dyingtolive 
6:43pm, August 17, 2009
i've sort of neglected this...i've come back periodically to read messages and all, but i haven't found anything in me that wants to write. i'm going to try and have another go. stress has been eating away at me...i'm looking for answers to questions i should've asked a long time ago.
these past few days have been alright. i've been distracted with things to do, things that have been keeping my mind away from those little dark spots. i don't know if keeping myself so distracted is good or bad. i don't know if it's helping.
anyway, i'm going to bed. work in the morning.
i wrote this poem about a month and a half ago, about those days before and after the funeral. the alumni association at my school was holding a poetry contest, so i entered it and won third place. i posted it here, so you can read:
Pick Six
In soft upholstered seats, we sat—
five lucky, wet-eyed front-row patrons—
and lifted our feet as your roots snuck and crawled under them
(and those of your other honored guests, lined up in neat rows
ready to offer us their peace with handshakes and salty half-smiles)
On that same morning, we took turns,
walked onto your lawn and knelt at your side
and kissed the topside of your trunk, cold and white
and planted a photograph and a flag on your left
and wove a chaplet between your branches, alive and wet with sap
You lay, cold as stone, in a parlor-garden adorned with wreaths and posies and shrubs—
we picked out the reds and whites!—
atop a carpet of damp earth, packed down in the days prior
to cover our tracks, to hide what we’d rummaged and ravaged through
in hopes of finding pieces of yourself that you’d remembered to leave behind
We dug up what we could out of the soil at the feet of your tall life;
In all of our hunting, in all of my hunting
we collected only fruitless fragments,
stacked and saved and stamped:
two dusty telephone books
your sticky wedding album
full ashtrays and empty Winston cartons
postcards to and from New York
the last ten years on video tape, the last sixty in vinyl
bright white cardstock, coffee rings
cigarette butts and Plato’s Republic
and an unsettling collection of Pick Six tickets; this was all
We forced stoppers into the polished, holey (porous – not divine) maple around your bark
and slipped temporary dirt into your cracks until the late evening.
Here still, we could not believe that in all our searches we had found nothing,
not a single dog-eared testament,
just small souvenirs of the days you had so carefully chronicled,
stacked and saved and stamped:
miniature answerless artifacts, piled high and valueless, costly and hollow,
documented in the dust
Comments
Past Entries
| May 2008 |
Tuesday, 5/27
|
that was really great!!! i enjoyed it very much, but i enjoy poetry anyway!!!
sillygirl19682004
This was powerful, a beautiful testimonial, no wonder you got to third, but I would of made you win first place. congradulations. If you want a place for your poetry you can also join our group Writer's Corner, if not thats ok too, just thought you may like it. ok? Be well, keep writing.
tonelowe
I love your imagery and the powerful sense of the life left behind being both solid and obsolete. I am thinking of you in your loss- for you surely lost someone here; you didn't make it up. That I can tell. And I can tell they matter. Keep writing. I'm hanging out for more!
Catstiptoes
That was amazing...my father passed away bout' a year and a half ago...my sister and i sang a song about him too....anyway that was powerful...I LOVED IT...Congrats on your wonderful skill...
PrincessEmma
Thank you that reminded me of my mom. You have a way of touching people keep doing it...
LuckysBear
this month is 1 year since my father passed. He was 84. I found alot in your poem. I am the youngest of 12 kids. 8 of us remain, we all suffered from ment illness. My father was a great man, but he was depressed most of his life. He forced through for us.
rob1269
so sorry for your loss...i understand your sadness as you stated it in your poem...as one gets older, one sees more of it...i lost my best friend at 56 3 years ago....i think several more may go...and my beloved uncle when he was 59...so hard, so sad...i am artist...and i do write...but i just dump all this into visual means...well, it takes me a LONG time to do that...because i realize i have to completely digest my loss and find the right place before starting the piece...this is a process that keeps me alive....so very hard...but SO worth it....please stay the course, keep living life to its fullest....and stay strong...best wishes....haley2
haley2
i don't know what to say or who to say it to other than i wish my life had gone a different direction. although i seriously hurt inside i refuse to allow this destruction to destroy me as an individual.i have much to offer as a person, but nothing is left materially.
irongod
wow thats absolutely beautiful.
I'm sorry for who you ever lost and I hope that your able to cope with it well
I know that its hard to deal with such a trying loss and that nobody can ever get over it but one day you will find peace
May52008
That was an awsome poem!!!!!!!
cocovin
wow, i am blown away..i was memorized while reading. thank you for allowing us to read your poem.
spiiike
Your poem is beautiful! I can feel your feelings through your words. Thank you.
sur5or
Wow! Awesome poem! Congrats on winning third place! Even though you deserved first place! :)
CaseyDesiree
BEUTIFUL POEM. Very clever poetry, very neat, strong words, was wonderful to read. Talented writer......
azma30
wow that is an amazing poem, you have a talent there. thanks for sharing it with us. xx
Louise1986
That was beautiful, thank you so much for sharing it here. You are a great writer.
RonnieV
wow, what hapened to your friend?
dianeholmes
Well, I have tears in my eyes as I sit here after reading your poem and reflecting on what I will find when my parents pass. As I also reflect on what my children will find after me I looked at what they will go through from your vantage point and I Thank you so much for your gifted poem and how it has made me think beyond it. It is my hope that I can start right now to make sure that I do what I can so that they will find better somehow than what they would find if I were to pass today. Thank you so much for your poem, it touched me.
tantra
I loved it. Never stop writing.
emj2