i love you caroline. : - ( i reawy reawy sowie. but i just wrote this and i'm kind of in love with it. and to be honest and it kind of reminds me of our lovely of mr. collins.
heather: comment on caroline's post and this poem please.
Untitled
It's the empty space we mourn:
the impression, the imprint.
Not a thick body folded
into a black box
or white dust sprinkled
among butterflies and waves.
It's where her breathing used to slow
on the left side
of the bed. Or perhaps,
how the phone doesn't ring at five.
It's not having fingers on a wrist
at the company ball.,
Not lungs or kidneys. We feel the absence
of the cranberry salad at Thanksgiving,
Or the empty reserved table:
two chairs staring at each other,
The cushions curved and cold,
menus untouched.
*peacefully moving on* love you!,
emilea
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9 comments:
This in no way merits apology. Why would I care that you covered up my measley and pathetic PARAGRAPH with this piece of brilliant loveliness?
It reminds me of (what little) Billy Collin's that I've read too; particularily with the format (couplets). The way you've broken up the stanzas is really perfect for this; it strikes me as a little symbolic (the emptiness) and even if it's not that, it's just really pretty and sophisticated. I love that.
The idea of this is so heartbreaking and *i-miss-mamie-sob* poignant. I like all of the examples that you use. I think that the end is phenomenal. The last three stanzas blow my mind with their awesome. The beginning and the end are definitely your strongest- the three middle stanzas (from 'it's where her breathing used to slow' to 'at the company ball') are the weaker part of the poem. The words themselves are great, but the line break-up feels a little awkward to me. I think you might want to switch that around a little bit.
You are so amazing, Emilea, seriously. You could take over the world with your spectacular poet-ing powers. Or take it by storm, or something, if you aren't into actual world-domination.
Love this love you:
Caroline
I was totally left speechless at first, but now I have a few things to say. first, you're amazing. This poem is incredible.
It is a little Billy Collins-ish in a way. The simplistic statements, I guess. Nothings abstact. It's there, it's plain, it's what it is. But I love that about it. It makes it all the more (to steal Caroline's word because I couldn't think of exactly what word I was trying to say) poignant.
I agree that the last three stanzas are the strongest, but not that the middle three are the weakest. It is a little awkward in the breaks, but I think just a bit of rearranging could cure that. I think that the first stanza is probably the weakest in that it completely stands on it's own. I think maybe you should move "Not" from the second to first couplet to connect the two, maybe? I'm not sure, but something in the way it's written seperates it from the rest of the poem in a weird way. Or at least that's how I read it.
Love, love, love it!
Heather
it's repetitive
(and redundant)
it's repetitive
(and redundant).
Just so you know: upon reading a second time... there were tears. A senior at our school just comitted suicide, and I didn't know him that well personally but our families are really close. And I've been seeing so many miserable people in the past few days, and hearing so many sad things- and your poem really affected me this time. I mean, I loved it at first (see above) but I took more away from it reading it again.
anyway. sorry for the ramble.
<3 you
Lovely Emilea, you are a poet through and through. The concept of this poem is obviously brilliant. This poem is so obviously (to me) you as well, because it's got that gentle melancholy I saw in your work at govie school.
Mourning is always about the absence. It doesn't really hurt until you look for someone and realize they aren't there. That is true and it resonates here.
More later. I'm off to bed.
Love you!
-Anna
Just so you know, I deleted that comment, because like Caroline said, it was repititive (and redundant). I didn't even post it twice. It just appeared on it's own, I guess.
muchas gracias everyone. i kind of left off the part where i get to talk...oops. i'm so glad it affected you caroline. that's why we write. we write to affect and persaude and comfort. i was telling my mom this. there's this great quote..."we read to know we're not alone" and we as the writers get to let the people reading that they are not alone in their thoughts and experiences and daydreams. that we're all connected and we're all the same on some level. and it makes me happy that i could do that. i've been doubting whether i should go to governo's school, whether i would belong. and that confirmed it. i want to be a writer. thank you. : - )
emilea
I know! I listen to Scott make fun of YA fiction and think, "But those authors saved me. I can't imagine where my adolescence would have gone, what kind of person I would be turning into, if those stories hadn't affected me so much."
And of course you should go to Governor's school, silly.
Okay, the more I promised later.
The bit about the cranberry salad is my favorite part. That makes the missing person so human. That she made cranberry salad, and as you're enjoying your Thanksgiving she's in the back of your mind until you realize it's not there, and suddenly you miss her. I mean, every year my mom is the one person who supplies the cranberry-type foods. If she was gone, no one would think to make it...Okay...rant done...
And that colon behind "empty reserved table" is great. 'Here's what it is - colon - here's what it's like.' Which is really just my way of saying 'wow-I-never-think-to-use-colons-because-my-mind-is-really-small.'
I agree with Caroline about the line break-up seeming slightly awkward in the middle. I also agree that this poem is complex in its simplicity. It's lovely...that's really the first word that came to mind.
-Anna
I'm very glad that I helped you to realize the OH SO TOTALLY OBVIOUS, Emilea. <3
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