THE ATTIC

THE ATTIC

I write to bestow my dreams
unto this naked page,
to imbue it with verve
and paint my life
the way I want it to be;
but the mind refuses,
to let me…be me.
A darkness filled,
cobweb infested attic;
a bloody Sunday congregation
for the melodramatic,
where insanity infects
my picture perfect -
like the rain hides the sun,
knocking with eyes
black and gray,
at my window pane.
A womb, gestating
paradoxes that constrict
and enslave, depraves me
into a poetic grave,
as I wither away.

Each and every morning,
I rise up from that grave,
deeper than it was yesterday.
I curl up on the cold attic
floor cradling my hand;
re-living memories nestled
in the lines of my palm.
The visions of the past have
draped themselves in
monotonous robes,
as timeless whispers write
odes of utmost complexity,
corrupting my ideology.
Much against my inclination,
my dreams I am
forced to resign;
open the window
and let the rain inside.

Author's Note

This is a piece I wrote a week ago and while I have a backlog of things to post written months ago - I chose to post this one to see the reception.

Thank you for the feedback should you leave it.

Reviews

[~~~~~]

Your piece was truly a pleasure to read. This is the first time I read a poem which an attic was a metaphor for the mind. I feel a sense of desperation, to manifest one's dreams once penned to parchment; a release of true self. But old memories die hard and all the baggage that comes with, pulling one inward and downward. You have a unique ability to mix metaphors in the most unusual way. If I had to describe this piece as a colour it would definitely be the deepest shades of grey.

"my dreams I am
forced to resign;
open the window
and let the rain inside." ~ A solemn surrender.

[Valentine]

Paint your life on a page, many writers are like that..this is dark and full of a sadness and mystery..Well written..lol and God bless..Valentine

[JENY]

Thanks for sharing your intimate thoughts….
Very vibrant….beautiful….

[Richard Lynn Livesay]

felt the passion as I have felt when the words are standing at the precipise
of my cranium like a mad crowd at a European soccer game pushing to be seen.
"the cobweb infested attic" screams! Your words flow like an anger that is taking the reader down the river to the end! Great read.

[jenniewren (J.W. Bouwma..]

I curl up on the cold attic
floor cradling my hand;
re-living memories nestled
in the lines of my palm

that is achingly searing! i felt it sooo deeply and could picture the palm of your hand filled with anguish

open the window
and let the rain inside.

those lines are the perfect ending.. a most marvelously endearing conclusion.. let it rain inside.. after all.. how else can you truly feel?

[Lovely Lady]

Absolutely wonderful... Love the way youplay not only with words but also with ideas to illustrate the workings of the mind!
Great job... I want to read more of your works.
~♥~

[DamienHino]

I Like how you descrbie the thoughts that come to you when you write or at least in this instance. Seems you are describing reliving tramas or events going back to the attic a cold lonely place whenever you write from your soul.

[Natalie]

Again very emotional. I loved it. I found myself getting lost in the poem. Great imagery and all it was real nice. It had a sort of haunting feeling. I think it was the rain "knocking with eyes." One of my fav parts. :D

[Molafvt]

Far out Ivan; This is a powerful piece about confrontation with one's mind and it's endless vagaries of misinformation, allusiveness and complexities. An insightful incursion into the nether lands of creative thought. I freaking love it. This stanza sets it up so eloquently;
"I write to bestow my dreams
unto this naked page,
to imbue it with verve
and paint my life
the way I want it to be;
but the mind refuses,
to let me…be me.

You then go on through the maze of mind with delectable metaphors in every dark corner. This a masterful introspection into the nature of creative thought and the difficulties of finding one's "true" voice amidst the chaos of
"A darkness filled,
cobweb infested attic;
a bloody Sunday congregation
for the melodramatic," and on and on, with a most incredible admition of the difficulties of thought and writing. I was relieved when you let the Rain in and took a gulp of fresh, un-convoluted air. I can see why you wanted to post this before other, older writing. This is a masterpiece of introspection. Sorry I haven't been around to see you in a while. Life, ya know. Love you man. I really, really enjoyed this.

[zogzog]

very good flaw....real....