Thief of fire

Stone-faced, red-columned
I have lent my shoulders
for temples. Have discovered,
how to call things by light-names;

make brutality feel less
like knives. Yearning for a voice
to speak. What one loses is only

the beginning of a story.

Reviews

[Ern M. Yoshimoto]

this is a very clever title - my knowledge in classics are elementary, but i believe Prometheus stole fire from the gods and was punished by being strabbed to a boulder with birds pecking out his eyes for eternity. as this image came up, i took a deep breath before reading on...
there were certainly language here that evokes the feeling of hell, a personal psychological one, of being neglected, abandoned, or forgotten about. the language used is fittingly caustic and heavy. your signature enjambments are also effective, pulling the eyes towards the next line, and feeling like we are descending... down to somewhere.
the final phrase hit me like a brick wall. i really had to stop and think hard for a solid ten seconds. i liked this cryptic kind of writing, and it works in this poem for this explores the theme of questions that are not easily answered. but i venture to give you my interpretation 'to lose the begining of a story' as a writer, im told the ending is the most important part. and so maybe the persona here still hopes that what remains of her story might be a good thing. what happens in the 'begining' is usally exposition, we learn the characters motivations. but because life isnt a movie, maybe our backstory isnt all that important. maybe it is better forget the past and search for a new horizon.
this is just my thoughts running amiss. i would love to hear what made you write this piece.

[Eilis]

Hey, Ern. Thanks for your thoughtful response. Your interpretation of the ending is very close to my original thinking. But also it is like when one gives up themselves what they become is a result of that. So there can be both despair and hope in that circumstance. Is it strong character or will or chance that allows goodness to be born of suffering. I’m not sure. This is my question to the universe. I wrote this in a time of great desperation. I gave up on myself, my individuality very young in life. I allowed others to claim my life and at the time I wrote this I felt bitterness and hopelessness. But writing things like this has always helped me to understand my feelings and move to a new square on the strange game board of my life. Awareness of my feelings gives me strength when I feel powerless to change the circumstances. Often the strong one or good one in a family is bearing more than they feel able but the dynamic they are in affords no other choice. Only in silent servitude are they accepted. This is what I have learned. It’s a painful lesson but only in trying to discover it have I been able to see I am myself still and perhaps it’s not too late to learn what that means. I still feel this poem but it’s different now. More just I understand what she (I) was trying to say. Always appreciate your insights and explorative readings. Thank you for your curiosity about these writings. It makes me think about them and what they do mean to me then and now.

[Ern M. Yoshimoto]

" move to a new square on the strange game board of my life." i'm saving this quote for later. i feel it's going to be very relevant

[Richard🖌]

Dear Eilis,

I, too, know life is like that for some … enfolding deeper true feelings, giving way to necessary demands to be strong, minimizing whatever load is thrust upon them that others less capable and more dependent will not be unnecessarily, unfairly burdened by that which they can do little or nothing about. Wow! I just said all that in one breath.
It's small wonder too many inner fires are discouraged and doused, before they're allowed to become the roaring infernos they're needed to be.

Our world turns, constantly and delicately balanced on the verge of survival or destruction, dependent on the skills, insights, and wisdom of a few who posses the knack of making it all tolerant for the less capable and durable.
These are the ones who see and perceive beyond yesterday and tomorrow … they are the renegades and seers with far vision, endowed with the capability of helping prepare for what's to come (whatever that may be) … they whom not only read the title handed them, but author life's story … those special few with a the voice strong and vibrant enough to speak and be heard by sufficiently significant numbers to make a real difference.

Well, this is my interpretation, anyway … and, I share it, despite being told I'm not all that good at deciphering; that I'm farrr too imaginative … LOL!

DANG!
Just look at all I wrote! You sure know how to inspire a soapbox.
Now, "here's" a write (I think)* is amazingly more immense than its size *(obviously).
Thank you, Eilis, ever-so gratefully, for sharing that which deeply touches and inspires! ⁓ Richard 🍃

[Eilis]

Thank you for this very kind review, Richard. Your words are truly appreciated. I hope you had a Merry Christmas! Thank you so much for your time spent in reading and absorbing this poem. It is truly appreciated.

[Richard🖌]

I'm proud to be your fan. : )

[Robert Trakofler]

so so so true dear Eilis yes yes yes and your story is glorious and shines so much the more brighter after the dulling of the wretched left the scars that you polished so eloquently to the poet that is you today:) May your story keep shining this new year and A Merry Christmas to you and yours!

[Eilis]

Thank you ever so much, Bunny. It’s been a pleasure getting to know you through poetry this year. You’ve boosted my ego more times than I can count, haha.

All good wishes for a wonderful year to come. Hope you have a very Merry Christmas!

[CD Campbell]

This poem to me sounds like it's coming from an exasperated wife and mother. These thing called adulting sure does steal the very soul out of you sometimes. You ask yourself what exactly you are giving up, then feel ashamed for having those thoughts when you look into the little eyes that are around you.. I think sometimes how I could have been a better writer if I would have stuck to my guns and stayed in school past a single semester, but the pressure to work, make money, yadda, yadda, was always there. On the other hand, I don't think the maturity was there. Sorry, I feel like I'm about to start on a huge ramble. It's a great poem full of passion. It reads like a tiny box with a big explosive inside.

[Eilis]

Locating maturity is definitely a huge factor in figuring things out early. It's very odd, looking back, the way I squandered opportunities. But, what can you do. College doesn't always teach you the important things, sometimes it complicates the knowledge you already have. You're doing pretty well with writing from where I'm sitting.

Thanks for reading, CD. Adulting can be an SOB for sure. Always appreciate your comments.

[Laura Kate]

I see someone who appears to be so strong that everyone else leans on them. with no idea for the weight that eventually takes a toll on this person's shoulders. Sometimes it's difficult to speak your truth and to assert yourself, opting to remain stoned faced. The structure to your poem is fantastic, read aloud I sense energy failing, as must be their strength, yet the poem ends on a positive note, for every lesson we learn we make way for growth and new strength - the beginning of a new cycle.
Laura

[Eilis]

A lovely, insightful review, Laura. Thank you so much. I won’t say I consider myself strong, but that I feel I must be the stone. Sometimes it’s the only choice. The promise you allude to at the end of your comment is the light at the end of the tunnel. Sometimes the journey is long in getting there.

Thanks for stopping by. It’s nice to meet you.

[Laura Kate]

Perhaps your ability to mask your true self comes through even in your writings! Albeit subtly. A lot of people who are perceived to be strong don't consider themselves to be, but continue to 'uphold' expectations.
My pleasure - it's lovely to meet you too.

[Eilis]

I think you’re right, Laura. Thanks again! Looking forward to visiting your page soon.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Impassive and hardened with socialist values, someone with broad shoulders who has supported the trials of others. A pacifist who avoids conflict but who wants to be heard as they move on from loss to gain more certainty. As always a tightly constructed free verse poem filled with meaning.

[Eilis]

That’s a very perceptive reading of the poem, John. I’m always impressed by the way your are able to understand and condense the meaning of poems in your comments.

Thank you for reading and sharing your insights.

[Mrudula Rani]

This poem of yours is profoundly enigmatic , Eilis. at first reading I felt your indignantion and was not sure if you are referring to the institutions of persuasions ... The more I read the further I am convinced that you are speaking of personal responsibilities of those who lend voices to truth and how the knowledge of a facts are tampered and unjust. This writing is timeless and intense... I am used to reading your very compassionate writings is thrilled to see this little wonder among your creations.

[Eilis]

Hi, Mrudula. Thank you for this lovely comment. This is an older poem of mine that I polished up and thought I’d post. I’m glad you like it, and love what you see in it.

It’s nice to see you on my page- I’m always happy to hear from you. Hope you’re doing well.

[Mrudula Rani]

I am fine ( after a fit of flu) now. Thank you Ellis, for your most kind words. Uma abraço ( a hug).

[Eilis]

Ah, the flu is no fun. Glad you’re doing better. Sending a hug back to you.

[kentuck14]

E,
Very mysterious! I will admit to an ignorance of meaning . . . but very lyrical . . . the images you project are strong: e.g, "I have lent my shoulders for temples." It almost sounds like ancient temple sacrifices consumed in fire, waiting for ancient gods who do not speak . . . even though the worshiper would very much like that happen . . . but . . . . "Calling things by light-names." Using religious words to conjure up expectancy of some divine blessing in the slaying of animals . . . perhaps even humans . . . trying to remove the brutality of sacrifice in one's conscience. At the end of this brutal ritual the worshiper forgets why it was even done.

All this purely conjecture on my part . . . but I enjoyed trying to work it out in my head.
T

[Eilis]

Love the depth of your ideas, here. This may be a bit of a pity party poem on my part. A moment of weakness trying to gather strength.

I guess it’s my view on the grace of poetry, or creativity, in the face of negative experience. Trying to make sense of life.

Thanks so much for your thoughtful response. It means a lot when someone deliberately engages with a poem. All the best to you, Tom.

[kentuck14]

yes, now that you say so . . . I do see that in this piece. Perhaps the heavy columns on your shoulders is the burden you feel at creating real art . . .art that has meaning. It is not as easy as some people might think--- to give yourself to such a task?!
T

[kentuck14]

Further thoughts: Indeed I see what you are attempting as a kind of sacrifice of fire . . . willing to be consumed by your quest to bring forth meaningful poems. And you do!
T

[Eilis]

Thanks, Tom. I appreciate your vote of confidence. And though I will say I do feel the drive to try and create something authentic, I feel more that poetry is a grace to me in helping me reconcile some negative experiences. If I make something worthwhile in the endeavor I am grateful for that. I do appreciate your engagement, sincerely.

[kentuck14]

Thanks for saying so my fellow poet!

[gram linski]

I f*****g loved the impact of this, minimalist and intense, making brutality feel less like knives, how do you come up with these lines, the thief of fire has sent burning poetic embers into my dreams, sweet dreams,

[Eilis]

It’s the poetry that does it. That’s just what poetry does for me. Writing it, anyway.

I used to write a lot of minimalist poems, but I haven’t been able to do it for awhile. This is a bit older and something I just set to editing. I need to devote myself to more concentrated poems, I think. I like the feeling of it.

Anyway. I’m glad you liked this one, Gram. Thanks for reading.