...quiet, about a lot of things...
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Poetry Thusday..I'm Back, Baby!
Firstly, let me say being away from poetry for a couple of nights...then coming back, is scary. I am shy all over again. The same thing happens when Michael goes away(every week). I know I love him and know him and trust him. But as he walks through the door, he some how feels different, and strange. Our first embraces are always guarded and forced, like kissing your auntie you have only met once. A necessary evil..oh, I meant nicety.
Neil wrote a very candid PT post about how startling it can be when you write feelings down, and do not edit, or craft, or style for presentation.A very brave post really.It's hard to be honest. Some emotions splay us more then others.
I, personally, am very comfortable in my slightly melancholy, hopeful voice. Very easy for me. I would say that is the real me,my real voice. A long time ago I wrote some lines in a poem. I think I was twenty. I had platinum blond hair a la Madonna a la Marilyn.
"letting my head hang over the bed
I look at myself, upside down
backwards in the mirror.
If I squint my eyes to blurr
most details, I swear I look
almost like Marilyn
right before she died.
A bit disheveled and smudged.
but still somehow trying
clinging to the edge of the pool.
afraid to let go."
I've paraphrased and embellished a bit...but the bones are vintage, and still true. Though now, I know I look nothing like Marilyn, and realize the resemblance was mostly in the smudges.
Emotions I am not comfortable with, are anger, lust, and hate. They are hard for me to verbalize, without acting, or editing. I feel all these things, but like Neil, i keep them private. It's good to recognize this. I'm not sure I will ever change this. But knowledge is power, right?
I've often heard that depression is rage turned inward. That would explain the melancholy.
Now on to the Poem. Since I'm in a Marilyn state of mind...I'll conjure a conversation they might have had...
Mr. President
"WHY, MR PRESIDENT!
(why don't you love me?)
Aren't you a bad boy!
sending your brother
(your beautiful baby brother)
to do your dirty work."
No matter really.
With my eyes closed
or on my hands and knees
you all look the same.
(Theres not a one
who's managed to
be different
so far.)
You both hold on
you both grab at
the same places
and bruise my breast.
You both smell the same
move the same
taste the same
sigh the same.
Still, one of you laughs
and the other does not.
One of you tells me to
fix my face, and close my legs.
The other smooths my hair
pats my tummy.
kisses my nipple
whispers my name.
One of you showers
The other does not.
But both of...
"You will remember
me.
Won't you?"
wlf 8:28
Nice to be back. Poetry Thursday feels like home...Now say it with me..."There's no place like home...."
Neil wrote a very candid PT post about how startling it can be when you write feelings down, and do not edit, or craft, or style for presentation.A very brave post really.It's hard to be honest. Some emotions splay us more then others.
I, personally, am very comfortable in my slightly melancholy, hopeful voice. Very easy for me. I would say that is the real me,my real voice. A long time ago I wrote some lines in a poem. I think I was twenty. I had platinum blond hair a la Madonna a la Marilyn.
"letting my head hang over the bed
I look at myself, upside down
backwards in the mirror.
If I squint my eyes to blurr
most details, I swear I look
almost like Marilyn
right before she died.
A bit disheveled and smudged.
but still somehow trying
clinging to the edge of the pool.
afraid to let go."
I've paraphrased and embellished a bit...but the bones are vintage, and still true. Though now, I know I look nothing like Marilyn, and realize the resemblance was mostly in the smudges.
Emotions I am not comfortable with, are anger, lust, and hate. They are hard for me to verbalize, without acting, or editing. I feel all these things, but like Neil, i keep them private. It's good to recognize this. I'm not sure I will ever change this. But knowledge is power, right?
I've often heard that depression is rage turned inward. That would explain the melancholy.
Now on to the Poem. Since I'm in a Marilyn state of mind...I'll conjure a conversation they might have had...
Mr. President
"WHY, MR PRESIDENT!
(why don't you love me?)
Aren't you a bad boy!
sending your brother
(your beautiful baby brother)
to do your dirty work."
No matter really.
With my eyes closed
or on my hands and knees
you all look the same.
(Theres not a one
who's managed to
be different
so far.)
You both hold on
you both grab at
the same places
and bruise my breast.
You both smell the same
move the same
taste the same
sigh the same.
Still, one of you laughs
and the other does not.
One of you tells me to
fix my face, and close my legs.
The other smooths my hair
pats my tummy.
kisses my nipple
whispers my name.
One of you showers
The other does not.
But both of...
"You will remember
me.
Won't you?"
wlf 8:28
Nice to be back. Poetry Thursday feels like home...Now say it with me..."There's no place like home...."
Labels: Poetry Thursday
17 Comments:
Very clever, Wendy! And it's not hard to guess which was which.
I really appreciate your commentary/response to Neil's column. Exactly where do we closet this anger?
Anyway, your Marilyn poem works so well with the juxtapositions. I really like how she objectifies the men, that they are pretty much interchangeable, exchangeable, and yet, that last needful question, that last need for confirmation.
Very cleverly done. I liked both the poems. They flow for me.
You return with a bang! I enjoyed them both :)
Terrific! Super! And, you are right--there's no place like home.
there is no placw like home indeed !
One of you laughs
and the other does not
Oh, the laughter--the laughter is what we need as much as we need love.
I also found your first paragraph about poetry and Michael leaving the house as very poetic.
Wow whee... what a poem that was. I always loved MM and wondered how she really felt on the inside- I can imagine her saying these exact words.
Just beautiful and very soul-ful...
You've captured her deep vulnerability very well there.
You may feel shy, but you don't seem at all rusty. That hit home on a lot of different levels.
Powerful poem that really captures the MM's ambivalent emotions--the calm resignation of how she is treated juxtaposed with her never ending need for affirmation and recognition. This poem really resonated with me, thanks for sharing!
Dear Wendy,
I am struck by the vulnerability that you have shown with your writing today. I feel as though you have opened your front door just for me and felt awkward doing so. Thank you.
As for your poem about MM, it's true that a woman on her knees has all the power. Brilliant poetry.
Rose
xo
I am gonna have to disagree with everyone. Not really but one must admit there is the chance that MM was the complete sleeze drug addict idiot that Anna Nicole was. Just different times. Now that I have been evil and currupt, I love the poems. The first one is wonderful. Your discription of how rage held in is depression, well...it could be correct. I personally DO NOT EVER feel any type of depression yet rage is running through my bones when a pen in sitting in the wrong place. Again, probably all those drugs I did. But hey, thats life and as you said "knowledge is power." I am very glad to see you writing again and your poem was entertaining. I wish I could have heard the famous "happy birthday" line, but I say it in my head all the time. It makes me smile to know Clinton was not the only president who was great but broke some rules. He just got caught. Enough of this-I think people will hate me good and fair now, so off to eat my yucky cheese ravioli I go. I'll be back soon.
Thanks to all..and just a quick note to Chris:
I am neither a fan nor critic of Marilyn. I just have always been interested in her photos. She has such an expressive face and honest eyes. In that way I think she was more of an innocent the Anna Nicole ever was. Anna Nicole calculated, but Marilyn became.
As for sleazy druggie..maybe we should be talking about JFK...He was on a fair amount of the juice..for his undisclosed illnesses and mood disorders..and I think his exploits are the stuff of legend.
But I so appreciate your honesty here Chris. It is always, always welcomed.
absolutely exquisite. You make me want to write again
I was captivated by your post, especially "still somehow trying
clinging to the edge of the pool./
afraid to let go."
The three-way conversation was intriguing. Your imagination captured things not often said; I'm glad for it.
Post a Comment
<< Home