you are nothing substantial
you are an empty white box
a bit of frayed twine
a piece of bubble wrap
a scrap of silver tape
you are an
unwanted,
hastily discarded
gift
I was hesitant to post this one, I started it last week when we were doing round images, then started adding pasted words and became so dissatisfied, I added a poem I wrote within a dream/nightmare one night last week. I've been reading a book called "Wintering" about Sylvia Plath's last months and it really affected me deeply.
reading antidote! Go read about the Mitfords; Love in a Cold Climate or something in that vein. People who were outwardly engaged rather than looking inwards all the time. Or anything by John Le Carre, (go listen to his interview at Writers and Company on CBC, he's fascinating). Ha! didn't mean to sound bossy but that's how this reads. Anyway, love your work and immediately thought of things that lift me away from those blue-funks.
ReplyDeleteI love reading about the Mitfords! Actually, finally writing this poem down got me out of the funk after reading Wintering.
DeleteYour poem (written during a dream/nightmare?!) is so utterly beautiful. I am very glad you posted this. Do you write on a regular basis? You should.
ReplyDeleteOne of my weirdest dreams ever, that is for certain, I can't believe I was actually able to remember a poem from the dream when I woke up. I only write when I have an idea, sitting and trying to write is too much like torture :) Thank you both for commenting here!
DeleteGood that you made the decision to post it here! Your poem and the collage are fitting to the typical Sylvia Plath mood!
ReplyDeleteJust wow, Vivienne. It's a great poem and even more fascinating to hear that you wrote in your dream. So sad, but beautiful.
ReplyDelete