poem: the owner of these words

mornings like this I sit with a tear

welling in the corner of my eye

and I could not explain it to anyone

just that there is some fear gnawing away

a surety that the owner of these words

over all, does not matter, here

it is a morning for remembering walking alone

and contemplation of icy rivers

a morning for seeing truth in accusations

of every person who ever hated me

some days I feel so keenly

how I was robbed, how I let it happen,

days when I need others so much

and my words reach out to silence,

to nothing reflected back, not a single

glimpse of recognition. Trying new spaces,

blocked at every turn. I think, am I ever

even really HERE?

 

Sundays are hard. Family day.

a day to take stock all I did not accomplish

in the 6 days hence the last lonefull day.

doing what am I here? with me, with you

with the sound of children's laughter

and the smell of volcanic doings

on the wind at my window; and it is hard

to see the world around me;

harder the one behind. Do we spend our

lives reading books to be enlightened,

or do we wish simply to be entertained?

Maybe I will fold up into an origami project

so I can be better fit into small spaces;

digested by the average consumer. I have

always been admonished for taking

up too much space, for wanting.

and all the things I ever wanted point

to one heartbreaking truth- a desire by

the owner of these words to simply find

acceptance, as one who walks in two worlds,

an open door that says, your kind welcome here.

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

Sundays are tough and lonely sometimes

Reviews

[R J Askew]

the title of this one put its arm around my shoulder and coaxed me into the house a poem is to have a look around .. I was reading in a routine sort of way thinking, 'hmm, sundays in the UK are just like any other day now .. we don't even have the luxury of a boring day to reflect or FEEL sad in our mania to do' .. but then the poem became intensely personal towards the end of the first verse esp:

Trying new spaces,
blocked at every turn. I think, am I ever
even really HERE?

Such is the life of an indie author. But then I realise it is a common feeling. So few win and those few who do win make many losers in their way. But that raises other questions as to who or what exactly is a winner or a loser! I thought the other day that 'when we no longer need to win, we have won'. This does not mean we cease to win, just that we don't 'need' to.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you for extremely interesting take on this piece, Orlando. I wonder when and why and how we came to the conclusion that life has to be about winners and losers? How recognition for some means that there is less for everyone else? We know life is not like that, yet we act as though it is. Why is that???

[R J Askew]

Men love to beat other men, often literally. A man feels great when he beats another man. Men often stop at nothing to win. Winners never care about the losers they make. To be a losing man in life makes a man bitter and sometimes dangerous, if not to others then to himself. Winning has to be kept as exclusive as possible as if too many men win it dilutes the potency of the win. Not all men are obsessed about winning, but the ones who are exert a disproportionate influence on the lives of all around them.

[Larry Dyson]

Of all the people I know in this World....you my dear Lady are the one I always can say to..."you are welcome here surely...and always"...JUST BECAUSE....

[Marie Anzalone]

I appreciate your kindness, Larry... and promise you will get a virtual visit soon. Lot so of small disappointments and some weirdness and some too-good-to-be-true mixed in. Scorn of a friend, and enemy determined to hate me, some accusations that hit close to home of some deep fears by a clueless person with no idea of the power of words to hurt others.

[Larry Dyson]

sometimes things and people just leave me baffled to see or even fathom the need for them and their opinions and introduction into my life....but ..there must be....a sounding board so to speak to allicit the needed response...

[Marie Anzalone]

you are not alone... I am often left baffled. the sounding board theory is as good as any, I guess. thank you for that.

[Corset]

Having a hard day myself , I hope you are feeling right as rain soon, this is a searching poem that I felt strongly and tugs at the heart strings.

[Marie Anzalone]

I am sorry to hear you are having a rough day, too. I hope the same for you as you wish for me. Sending you my best today.

[Corset]

Thank you Marie, you too :)

[Emily B]

you are never alone, dearest, yesterday you rode country roads with me :) You and Jill both smelled the hog barn, her forty miles away, and you so far to the south

i never thought i'd be travelling that road, with you and Sarah and Jill, very hopeful that we have set in motion , acctions that will bring comfort to a family bereft

[Marie Anzalone]

I am wondering at residuals from the important and necessary work? Talked to two others who felt the echo from me. Something powerful was in motion; we all lost our sense of place and time. Both people strongly connected to me. The pendulum swung hard.. dark to light, to extremes. At times, I am just the conduit. I wonder at how others see me, because I cannot see myself. Had two very different responses to that question this week. I hope I am strong enough to live up to the better one? I've been fasting all weekend; that too, could have had something to do with it.

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlander]

that's an interesting exchange..it connects a few gaps from a conversation earlier..my apologies for eavesdropping..I question myself too, but you're only as strong as your willingness to step up to the challenge

[quinfinn]

did you see Avatar/the movie? well," i see you......."

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlander]

I saw it in 3D...the kind with the huge panoramic screen that wraps around you so you're inside the movie completely

[Marie Anzalone]

having that conservation right now on a different forum, different level. Not so much a question of willingness sometimes, but rather the strength left over to do so. I forget that my reserves' reserves have been depleted for so long. The simplest tasks can exhaust me now; when I used to be up for anything. I get a small refill and think it's all going to be ok- forgetting that it takes more than a few weeks of kindness to overcome the damage inflicted by a decade of hurt.

[quinfinn]

i love that movie, and the fact that the "blue monkeys" kicked a*s! very cathartic for me , as i adore our native culture in America and would love for them to have that happy ending.

[Ken Simm.]

The words seem to come rough with me on Sundays also. These are family days you are right and therefore everything becomes elusive for such as us.
Your solitude enhances your craftsmanship. Your single thoughts develop along creative lines given the chance whilst you are alone. Could that not be said a positive thing. Cathartic at least?

[Marie Anzalone]

I'm seeing that feeling rough on Sundays is a common theme, and it makes me glad to know I am in such good company. Cathartic... yes. Also, I sense, clearing the way for something to blossom. Preparing the ground, fertilizing it. It is no coincidence perhaps that crap makes the best fertilizer, whichever garden you happen to be planting in?

[Ken Simm.]

I find going up a mountain or two, (which is where I've been for the last two weeks) helps as well.

[Marie Anzalone]

as soon as I have a secure income again, options like that will open to me once more. Until then, I make do the best I can. I have some gorgeous highland forest and volcanic slopes to explore here. Plus the mountains when I go "home" to the northeast US. Had not been able to get out much in 4 years- and that was a large part of the problem. I am glad to hear you got out for your own sojourn. How lovely and wonderful and soul-inspiring!