Sadness and The Angel of Hope (mag 28 >)

This is not my current response to Mag 28, it was posted by mistake. That mag is on the next page and can be reached by clicking on the title A Bath and A Yakky Red Tulip, which is listed above and to the right of your screen. Thanks.

for Sunday Scribblings #227 halfway
 http://sundayscribblings.blogspot.com/

This piece was written several days ago. It was a spontaneous stream of consciousness writing, something I have never had happen before. And all the while it was happening, I kept thinking, this is nonsense, yet the broken phrases just kept coming, and I kept putting them down. It occurred, I believe, in about five minutes of time.

When I went back and reread it, I changed only one word and that was only for tense purposes. I wasn’t sure about posting it. Although it made an alarming and clear sense to me personally, I wondered if anyone else could or would understand it. So, I simply put it away, promising myself that should an occasion arise that the poem would fit, I would use it.

I went back to it yesterday. Made a concerted effort to add another stanza to it, because the ending seemed so sort of hopeless. But, no matter how hard I tried, I could not recapture the rhythm of those first five minutes, when the phrases marched undeterred straight from my subconscious mind to the paper. Erased my attempts and also knew that I was going to find a prompt that would fit the poem, and that would happen soon.

It happened this morning. I went looking at yet another prompt site and found one called Sunday Scribblings. But, it is so right on and attuned to the contents of what I had written, that I am going to use it. The prompt is a series of questions that I will respond to before posting the poem.

Sunday, August 08, 2010

#227 – half-way
Is there someone that you need to meet half-way?  Yes, probably more than one someone.
Is there something you have half done?  Yes, perhaps many somethings.
 Are you half-way to something or someone?  I can only hope it is half-way.
Have you ever hit the wall half-way there? Sooner, more often than not.
Is it better to be half-way there than at the beginning?  Absolutely not. Neither.
Are you happier half-way there because you are afraid of the end?  Terrified
How do you feel about half-way? Lost, spinning around, twirling on the end of a very long thread, Incomplete

Sadness and The Angel of Hope

in a moment
loneliness steps in
presses downward
into paper, into words
more now than
back when hope
was an angel
wings spread to enter
into holes in soul
through which
whole galleon
ships might pass

only words to fill
empty place
where once
another face lived
familiar as a mirror
different like time
caught in a bottle
cork denied
for prejudicial
reasons of insanity
banality, ignorance
or brilliance
never understood
wooden door latch
locked from inside

scars that mingle
tingle to self-touch
in unreachable depths
of darkest shadows
hollowed out
brittle with thirst
seeking surcease
in any cup offered
proffered in pennies
on the dime
thin line of thread
sticky spider web
of gossamer mist
clings to sky
where hope
has flown
to be alone
forever.

Elizabeth Crawford  8/15/10
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About 1sojournal

Loves words and language. Dances on paper to her own inner music. Loves to share and keeps several blogs to facilitate that. They can be found here: http://1sojournal.wordpress.com/ http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/ http://claudetteellinger.wordpress.com/
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22 Responses to Sadness and The Angel of Hope (mag 28 >)

  1. Mary says:

    Oh, Elizabeth, the loneliness is palpable here, but it is a wonderful poem. I like especially:

    in a moment
    loneliness steps in
    presses downward
    into paper, into words

    And I was struck by the ending with hope flying off… One thing about hope, I think, is that it will return, perhaps in a different form, but return it does…always.

    • 1sojournal says:

      Mary, I like the poem very much myself. But, and this was my problem with it, it is the sadness that brings on the sense of loneliness, and it is the sadness that often chases the hope away. And yes, hope always returns, again and again, but when I tried to come back and add that to the poem, whatever rhythm or cadence was here in the moment of writing, was then out of reach. I decided to let it stand on its own. Perhaps it had a need to do so.

      Elizabeth

      • Mary says:

        I agree, Elizabeth, perhaps the poem had a need to do so. I write sad poetry sometime as well. I would not classify myself as a generally sad person, but some poems I write ARE sad. They just are. No apologies. So I understand what you are saying!

  2. Stafford says:

    Isn’t it funny that we are always ‘half way’ while most othere seem ‘there’.
    Truth is everyone is ‘half way’ but lack the honesty to admit it or we don’t look hard eough to see it.

    (for me) Angel of Hope is related. Hinted by: “caught in a bottle
    cork denied
    for prejudicial
    reasons of insanity
    banality, ignorance
    or brilliance
    never understood.”

    And… I am a young person, daily reminded of what I do not feel, as I look into the mirror and shave an old person’s face!
    ’empty place
    where once
    another face lived
    familiar as a mirror’
    Both pieces hit the spot with me!

    • 1sojournal says:

      Stafford, related?

      Thanks so much for your comments. Didn’t realize just how worried I was about anyone else being able to understand, until I read your words and heard my long sigh of relief, lol. And although the poem does make a great deal of sense to me personally, I probably don’t completely comprehend it because of the manner in which it ‘came’ into being. Maybe only half a connection? And I agree, none of us imperfect, many of us silly creatures, can never be more than half way to anything. And that might be why so many are willing to accept far less than even that.

      And I’m so glad you took the time to point out the particular places of relevance to you. Both of those places were points in the process itself where I stopped the, “this is nonsense” crap and leaned in more carefully to hear the words I felt I was simply dictating. And I don’t mean to make it sound like some sort of mystical experience. I know exactly where it came from, why it came at that moment, and its actual source. Plan on going back to that possible well, just to see if it will happen again. I am not always satisfied with half-way. But, there is a third spot, for me, in the third stanza of the poem. I’m willing to be patient and wait to see if someone else will find it, as well.

      Thanks again, and I’m very glad to make your acqaintance, my name is

      Elizabeth

  3. A really nice piece, with just a bit of magic. I’m glad you didn’t touch it, too much.

    • 1sojournal says:

      Truth be told, because of the way it came into being, sort of inserting itself unasked or biddened, I was a bit reluctant to mess with it at all. And like you, I’m very glad that I didn’t. That bit of magic seems to be a part of it and me somehow. And I’m glad it was visible to you. That makes it even better, really.

      Thanks Annell,

      Elizabeth

  4. I was just wondering, where do those things come from? I think perhaps it has been hiding in a hermit’s shell, and like the shell itself, beautifully formed. Thank you.

    • 1sojournal says:

      I have only been a quasi-hermit, one who likes her comforts and an occasional social gig. But, I love the metaphor and thank you. Kudo box, here we come,

      Elizabeth

  5. Kavita says:

    I too think the poem fit in perfectly with the theme and the questions…
    We are terrified of the goal, and terrified of being being only half way there (or so we hope), and yet we try our best! What is it that makes us do that? – Hope
    We feel there are many someone to be met with and known. What is it that makes us want to meet these someones? – Hope…

    The answers to most of these questions somehow hovers around that one word – ‘hope’ – whether we admit it or not. I suppose it’s just a matter of time that we acknowledge its presence .. don’t you think ?

    A very well written poem, Elizabeth… it really was very very heartfelt and thought provoking..

    • 1sojournal says:

      Thank you Kavita for stopping, reading, and commenting. I agree with you that most of life hovers around and is built on hope. But, I also think that hope hovers around us, each moment, waiting for permission to enter. I think that too often we lose sight of that constant give and take that ear marks any relationship.

      Elizabeth

  6. willow says:

    Some wonderful writing here. My favorite bit is “…caught in a bottle cork denied for prejudicial reasons”.

    • 1sojournal says:

      Willow,

      my reply to your mag is on the next page. My fault for incorrectly posting. But, I thank you for your comments, those lines are a particular favorite for myself as well. Each poem has its moments that step out and that is difinitely one of several in this poem.

      Elizabeth

  7. I like what you’ve added…..

    • 1sojournal says:

      The mag got lost because of a faulty link (my doing), just hope others find it. It really does tell a big piece of this story.

      Thanks,

      Elizabeth

  8. jinksy says:

    thin line of thread
    sticky spider web
    of gossamer mist
    clings to sky

    As a spiders web has a tensile strength greater than steel, this thread of hope is one to cling to!

  9. Jingle says:

    excellent writing,

    love the word flow,
    thanks!
    😉

  10. Rebecca says:

    You are right. You cannot recapture that moment in time. Those words were inside you waiting for the right time to come out and show their perfect brilliance. This poem anchors, it anchors the reader, tethering it to you, the writer, and it does not want to let go. I just want to read it over and over and over again. Wow. Simply, simply wow….

    on another note, thank you so much for coming over and sharing your experience on my blog. i know exactly the emotions of which you speak because i went through the same. though the piece was fiction, much of it was culled from perceptions and feelings of that time when my mother was ill. i am sorry to hear of your recent loss but know that in time the pain will heal and you will begin to remember her with smiles, tears no longer needing an outlet… ((hugs)) Rebecca

    • 1sojournal says:

      Thank you Rebecca, especially for the hug. The poem came about in response to another poet’s offerings that I simply chanced upon. I must have stayed there, reading, for nearly an hour, and when I left, I immediately went to paper and the words spilled out. I didn’t like that Hope flew off to be alone forever, but later realized that forever might be no more than a moment to an angel.

      Thank you for coming here in response to my comment on your site. You reminded me of something very important that I might have missed otherwise. A few weeks before my Mother died, I wrote another poem, one in which I compared my nightly visits to the rehab/nursing home to Percival’s quest that lasted for twenty years until he finally learned the correct answer to the question concerning the Grail. That poem ended with my reaching for the alarm bell, to silence it, so as not to awaken angels.

      And the one necessary connection, suddenly becomes an ‘ah hah’ moment of much deeper understanding of what I was actually writing about, how it tethers me to my own experience and to readers, like yourself, who understand because they have been there and still feel it. What a wonderful gift you have given me. Thank you and definitely, hugs in return,

      Elizabeth

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