Fear Constricts

today

I felt the future

melt a little

 

not like choc ice on a radiator

more a fading smile

or a petal beginning to droop

 

not the flower-sag

when a pygmy possum

climbs inside

to snuggle

 

but the market-stall bouquet

wilting

so that a house

becomes a building

instead of a home

a sanctuary

where each hugged reunion

is cherished

beyond description

translated only through

lips to peeking shoulders

and noses

nuzzled into necks

 

and I think

whatever blurred

the future’s edges

has evaporated my tears

because the need to cry

fizzes within my face

but nothing comes

 

like the words

I’m supposed to be sharing

 

and the implied

sense of duty

is what invited in the doubt

because they used to

come naturally

yet now I’m searching

for things to tell you

like items on a list of chores

 

what am I thinking now?

write it up and send…done

 

strangely

I am partially relieved

when I realise

that the problem

is a lack of depth

rather than

an unwillingness to share

 

if  Doubt

would only

stop tapping me

on the shoulder

I’m sure I could come up with

something profound

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

today

I felt the future

melt a little

 

and desperately tried to conceal the drips

Author's Note

Something's not quite right at the end - maybe the layout? Can anyone help?
Let me know what you think of Melancholy Boylan. Thanks.

Reviews

[Kara Emily Krantz]

um nope nope. i can't think of anything wrong... sheesh this is really great. i'm sure i could come up with some constructive criticism if i really tried to pick it apart, but my first impulse is damnnnn this is amazing :)

"and I think

whatever blurred

the future's edges

has evaporated my "

i'm definitely favoriting this. your thoughts are so concise, and yet so languid at the same time.... it's such a subtle and delicate balance... i was enraptured.

adore it.
hugs

[zig]

"profound" is overrated. the question we (and others) always ask ourselves is "whats wrong with me", and always we expect or search for something profound. good questions deserve good answers, and not getting one is just as troubling as the mysterious trouble in question... a wicked loop. i like your loop-poem, very well stated, more "profound" then you might think. i said it before and i will say it again, i love the honesty in your writing, a rare quality these days. great details, great wording, great voice. nurture the honesty and it will serve you well. zig

[Cdnsurfer]

That first stanza is clever, almost Dali-esque. I could picture the melting clocks. A strong sense of doom or impending sadness, subtle, like the fading of wallpaper. You open this piece up gently, revealing to us this sadness, piece by piece. You flow well in this soft opening, then in the 3rd stanza get rolling along. A "house becomes a building instead of a home"  here's the heart of it. Things are changing, people leaving, and what made the place special were the people and the memories. Heck, I still occasionally drive by the house I grew up in, though it is changed, and a smile comes upon my lips when ever I do; but it is not my home. I like the alliteration at the end of stanza 3.

Sometimes we simply don't know how to feel about something. We are told we should feel "x" and when we don't we feel disconnected. It's ok to feel what you feel, and at some point the "depth" of it will come.

However, it is natural to feel disconnected/disjointed, and you express this well with the future melting, and the feel the need to stop up the leaks.

I love this line! "the need to cry fizzes within my face" It's so strong.

In terms of the disjoint around the cut line, I would suggest something immediate before the last two stanzas that refers to "dripping" or "wetness". We got a sense of disconnect but not a sense of everything falling apart from the previous stanzas. This would make the last stanza fit better into the whole. I'm thinking something around stanzas 4-6, when you talk about the loss of home, evaporated tears and no words.

Cheers! Rob

[Gary H]

did you consider melting this poem into the Melancholy one? I only ask as the other one seems to get going then finishes as I was wanting more. this one seems to end wanting to move into something else.....almost like two songs merging together - that I try deperately to think of an example and fail miserably - note - I am listening to Gong so surely can be forgiven.
love the alliteration in this.

[Anthony Morningstar]

I think one of the problems with the ending is the last stanza is not like the second stanza. I mean that in the sense of both syllables and in descriptions. You tend to get really elibrate but at the sametime it's something that you wouldn't really picture. A radaiotor and ice cream. That could mean a lot of things what kind of radioator and what kind of ice cream a bowl vanille Hogan Daz what. Is this Dali-esque per se. And the fading smile just adds to that even more. And then you go onto the pedle. Of course you go more in depth with the petal but the last Stanza just doesn't fit that second one.

I hope this helps and not just a line of crock. Another way to look at would be like trying to sing it or some sort of like that and then you do and then you are waiting for that last chourus to come around but it just doesn't do like you want it. Best of luck.

[Sam Freeland]

The words bare
your soul
which also means
your writing
will connect to
the reader...word choice and slickness so often tell the reader your distance
cannot be bridged as with Mr. Ramsay in To the Lighthouse, poor soul.
I was with you all the way appreciating your honesty, not always seen here.