Whatever the wonder-
Whatever the care.
Whatever the secret,
Buried deep in your lair.
However you keep it-
However it thrives.
However it lingers,
You keep it alive.
It weeps and it withers,
It shivers with cold.
But the ghost of "What might have been",
Is worth more than gold.
The time has now come,
For the phantoms release.
LET GO of the shackles,
Endure.
-Cora- 12/26/03
It's an odd feeling to write something, particularly a poem, and after re-reading it to say,
"That's good...I think I know what it means."
How can I write something and not be sure of what it means?
It is the genius of poetry to drive everyone mad with the wonder of what the words mean. The only one not going mad is the author who simply gave birth to words that came out a certain way. Words that describe a moment of feeling, a moment of voices, a moment of images that the author feels and sees in her head.
The images are recalled to me when I re-read the poem, but who else in this entire world can possibly see or know or understand it?
The longing to understand, the longing of the reader, is what drives us back over and over again to the words on the page. If only we knew what they mean...We would know something!
(Emily Dickinson often makes me feel this way. This poem was written with her in mind, and in the light of circumstances I was dealing with at the time.)
2 comments:
I knew someone would throw me over my own poem! Didn't think it would be in the first comment though! :)
I can see how both ideas can apply, but at the moment I wrote this I was refusing to let go of something...something I hoped for and knew would not happen, but it was still on my heart. I indicate this at the end when I say "Let go of the shackles", I could see myself holding on to the chains, not the other way around.
Can you relate? :)
Thanks for stopping by... Have a great day.
-Cora :)
Oh that was good! Very good! Made me want to cry just reading it!
Just recently I was reading Tennyson's "Locksley Hall"-which is kind of a long read in a tongue we don't use much, but it is so well written. Anyway, one line of the poem turned me inside out, it was: ...a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happy things."
Which took a minute to sink in. (because I like remembering happy things)
But as soon as I saw it from the perspective of having lost someone (which the author had), a spouse or child or dear friend, it stung! It is a good piece of work and worth the time to read it.
THanks for visiting :)
-Cora :)
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