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ineese Profile
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Finding My Way



We said we'd travel, but to us,
the world was a locked house.
Just read a book, you offered:
discover raspberries, snow gardens
the thinning oak. The opera,
or ballerinas tall as spring hyacinth.
But, you saw nothing.

If not for you
I would have never left the parlor,
listened to the bees with their pillowed bellies,
followed silver lines into the day's conceit.
It seems I found my voice after all.
Time to walk past all the reconverted brownstones.
Speak in small whispers toward mirrored windows.

Last edited by ineese, Feb/16/2013, 6:59 pm
Dec/7/2012, 7:05 pm Link to this post Send PM to ineese Blog
 
Zakzzz5 Profile
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Re: Finding My Way


ineese,

This is a first go through. I think that first stanza is very powerful. The voice of the protagonist or poet speaks with authority. There is no artifice there. The only question I have is whether the phrase beginning "For one moment. . ." is a continuatin of the voice of the character designated by "you." It seems to me like it is.

If had more trouble with the second stanza. The narrator appears to thank the "you" for having a part in freeing the narrator's imagination. But the last two lines are ambiguous, for me at least. Seems like the narrator is making a renewed effort to spring free again. Like the original freedom of the imagination that "you" helped her gain, is no longer enough.

This is how the poem read to me. I liked the first stanza immensely, but would feel better if I understood the second one better. We'll see. Zak

quote:

ineese wrote:

Tell me why your eyes
taught more than any of your words.
You'd tip those glasses
down your nose, look up
tell me to stop brushing my hair behind the ear.
We said we'd travel, but to us,
the world was a locked house.
Just read a book, you chanted.
For one moment before you go,
discover raspberries, the snow gardens
the thinning oak. The opera,
or ballerinas tall as spring hyacinth.
You see nothing.

If not for you
I would have never left the parlor,
followed the silver lines toward the day's conceit.
It seems I found my voice, after all
an old familiar stone stuck in my throat.
Time to walk past all the reconverted brownstones.
Speak in small whispers toward the mirrored windows.



Dec/8/2012, 12:32 pm Link to this post Send Email to Zakzzz5   Send PM to Zakzzz5
 
vkp Profile
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Re: Finding My Way


Ineese, As I probably have said to you before, your poetry speaks to me. I feel it inside before my mind has had a chance to notice what the words even say. Or so it seems. An affinity I have with your words. So I was quite happy to see a new piece here from you.

After that first post-reading reaction of "YES" my brain engages and I can say some things to you other than, "Cool."

quote:

Tell me why your eyes
taught more than any of your words.


I like these lines but not so much as the poem's opener.
 
quote:

You'd tip those glasses
down your nose, look up
tell me to stop brushing my hair behind the ear.


I like the visual image of this -- narrator and the "you" are made real to me in two simple gestures. Why not "my ear"?

quote:

We said we'd travel, but to us,
the world was a locked house.


Wow. So much contained in these two lines. Regret, maybe even bitterness, isolation, maybe even grief.
 
quote:

Just read a book, you chanted.


Do you mean that the "you" chants the words, "Just read a book" or does the narrator read the book and the "you" chants? I guess this was confusing for me.
 
quote:

For one moment before you go,
discover raspberries, the snow gardens
the thinning oak. The opera,
or ballerinas tall as spring hyacinth.
You see nothing.


I love this, but also have a problem with it. Time sequence...? I imagine that the "you" -- being asked to notice something for the first time ever -- is maybe dying, or just absconding. The narrator scoffs, "You see nothing." The narrator, clearly, sees things. So it's only a little quibble and not sure how to solve it, but maybe it's not sequence at all that is the problem, but the words, "for one moment." If you take that out, it may work better...?
quote:

Before you go,
discover raspberries, the snow gardens
the thinning oak. The opera,
or ballerinas tall as spring hyacinth.
You see nothing.




quote:

If not for you
I would have never left the parlor,
followed the silver lines toward the day's conceit.
It seems I found my voice, after all
an old familiar stone stuck in my throat.


This is intriguing, because this "you" with blinders on locked away (literally or figuratively) is being given credit (it seems at first) for the narrator's freedom and self-discovery. But wait -- turning the tables again, the N leaves the stuffy parlor to find... conceit. Finds a voice... stuck in her throat, like a stone. So I get a "thanks for nothing" feeling here.
 
quote:

Time to walk past all the reconverted brownstones.
Speak in small whispers toward the mirrored windows.


Tremendously sad ending to me. The N is outside, in a precious, cloistered world of reconverted brownstones, speaking in a whisper to have her voice reflected back to her. Very lonely image, and I (again) feel the "you" has left (through death, I'm thinking) with so much unsaid between them....

A poem worth feeling and worth thinking about. Thanks.
vkp
Dec/8/2012, 2:03 pm Link to this post Send Email to vkp   Send PM to vkp Blog
 
ineese Profile
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Re: Finding My Way


zak, I think you have some fine points! Thank you for peeking in and feedback on this ohne.


vkp, I really appreciate your following of my work. I really do. I like how you spend time with each stanz. Will keep all your points as I mull over this one. I am so glad my poetry means something to you. Thank you.
Dec/14/2012, 11:34 am Link to this post Send PM to ineese Blog
 
Katlin Profile
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Re: Finding My Way


Hi ineese,

I like the confidential tone of this poem, but I get a little lost in S1. I'm not sure if these lines are being said by the "you" after s/he chants: "Read a book":

For one moment before you go,
discover raspberries, the snow gardens
the thinning oak. The opera,
or ballerinas tall as spring hyacinth.
You see nothing.

Or if the lines are being said by the N to the you, who the N says sees nothing? Read the first way, the you is talking to the N before the N leaves the locked house. Read the second way, the N seems to be addressing the you as the you approaches death. I'm guessing this latter reading is the right one and that the N rejects the locked house and living vicariously through reading, but the fact that I got confused prevented me from fully participating in the emotions conveyed in S2.

I apologize for not commenting earlier. I have read the poem a number of times and am feeling rather dense because neither Zak nor vkp seemed to get lost the way I did!

 
Dec/23/2012, 9:21 am Link to this post Send Email to Katlin   Send PM to Katlin
 
deepwaters Profile
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Re: Finding My Way


ineese,

Your poems speaks my language, or at least it feels that way to me. I find the opening weak, and not deserving for the rest of the poem.

love this part for its simplicity in expressing a complexity emoticon

We said we'd travel, but to us,
the world was a locked house.


I am confused in "You see nothing", as to who is saying it and who sees nothing.

I keep coming back for S2. Great lines, and a thoughtful ending.

Thanks for the read.

Last edited by deepwaters, Dec/23/2012, 12:36 pm
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queenfisher Profile
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Re: Finding My Way


dear ineese

i love the ambiguity in your poems

i feel some recnstruction (of the lines)might make the poem more powerful.

i see the last stanza working its way up:

Speak in small whispers toward the mirrored windows.
Time to walk past all the reconverted brownstones.
an old familiar stone stuck in my throat.
It seems I found my voice, after all
followed the silver lines toward the day's conceit.
I would have never left the parlor,
If not for you

sorry for taking such liberties - but to my mind it works!


Dec/26/2012, 2:03 am Link to this post Send Email to queenfisher   Send PM to queenfisher Blog
 
ineese Profile
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Re: Finding My Way


Katlin

I'm not sure about this myself, to be honest.
I see some areas that are not clear and have not had time to work on them. Thank you so much for digging in. I am going to try to be more
clear in what the narrator is saying, or trying to!
Dec/26/2012, 10:19 pm Link to this post Send PM to ineese Blog
 
ineese Profile
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Re: Finding My Way


deepwaters,

In revisiting this, I think I might
do away with the opening lines actually.
I might just begin it with "we said we'd travel" so I am working on it.

I appreciate your input very, very much.
Dec/26/2012, 10:21 pm Link to this post Send PM to ineese Blog
 
ineese Profile
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Re: Finding My Way


queenfisher,

thank you. dive in as much as you need to.

I really don't mind!
Dec/26/2012, 10:22 pm Link to this post Send PM to ineese Blog
 
Terreson Profile
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Re: Finding My Way


Kathleen, I'm getting to where I know your voice, which means you have one.

What vitiates against the poem is a rather large confusion. In whose voice is it said: You see nothing? I think it is in the subject's voice but can't be sure and so sense stumbles. Also, were the poem mine last two lines would stand on their own as, I think, they constitute a tense shift.

Tere
Jan/14/2013, 7:42 pm Link to this post Send Email to Terreson   Send PM to Terreson
 
ineese Profile
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Re: Finding My Way


Tere, thank you. Yes, I have a voice, unfortunately
its a little pollyanna voice. but its a voice.
appreciate the input. I have received much feedback here but may be gone for awhile. Truthfully, I've just been drawn to other obligations. Will see how life takes me.
Feb/9/2013, 3:52 pm Link to this post Send PM to ineese Blog
 
Bernie01 Profile
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Re: Finding My Way


Kathleen---

these ending two lines provoked my full attention:

Time to walk past all the reconverted brownstones.
Speak in small whispers toward the mirrored windows.


here the speaker stands out as fully adult, a mature sensibility i admire and want to invite for coffee.

also, there is no specific time signature there, could be Edith Wharton (1905) or Holly Martins arriving in post WW II Vienna to look for his friend, Harry Lime in the third man Circa 1949. Mrs. Dalloway.

a mist, an adult nostalgia, a longing hangs over that book and i sense it here in the last two lines of your poem.

please give writing a high priority.



bernie

 








Last edited by Bernie01, Feb/9/2013, 4:21 pm


---
Fall

Bob Grenier: the leaves / falling / out of the / water by the / table
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Katlin Profile
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Re: Finding My Way


Hi Kathleen,

Nice to see you pop in!

I was troubled by your comment: "Yes, I have a voice, unfortunately its a little pollyanna voice." I hope you don't mind my saying, I think you are being unfair to yourself. Having read all the poems you've posted here, there was only one I thought, on first reading, had a pollyanna voice and that was the poem you originally titled "Depression." The title made me think of the mental illness, clinical depression, and I thought your poem made it seem like someone suffering from clinical depression should/could pull themselves up by their bootstraps, etc. Later, I believe you changed the title, and I came to understand that the kind of depression you were talking about was the everyday blues most people experience at some time in their lives, in which case a little positive self-talk could/would be in order.

I remember, too, another poem in which you used the metaphor of sight and the N said something like: I see more than you think I do. All this is just to say that in this thread entitled "Finding My Way," I hope you do. emoticon
Feb/10/2013, 9:19 am Link to this post Send Email to Katlin   Send PM to Katlin
 
ineese Profile
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Re: Finding My Way


K, than you! Well, I guess maybe I was a little hard on myself. I'm very glad that you mentioned that poem and that you remembered it and others. I appreciate that. I haven't been very active of late and I think we all go through that from time to time.

Thank you again for the reply!
Feb/10/2013, 10:20 pm Link to this post Send PM to ineese Blog
 
ineese Profile
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Re: Finding My Way


Bernie,

I will go over your notes and revise this.
I haven't given up on it. I like what you see in it and appreciate your keen eye.

I try not to live in the past but am naturally drawn to the era you speak of, esp. early '40's and late '30's. Not sure why.

thanks again. I feel inspired.
Feb/10/2013, 10:24 pm Link to this post Send PM to ineese Blog
 


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