Intro post from lizcommotion
Oct. 24th, 2011 09:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
untonuggan posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
poetreeHello folks! I'll be your poetree host for the week, and this is my intro/meta post.
In Shakespeare's time, people threw poems into the graves of their friends. It seems like such a lovely custom - to send someone off with such an intimate farewell. When people ask me why I haven't published more of my poems, I often struggle with how to express that many are deeply personal. I write to cope with mental illness, chronic pain, grief. I write to celebrate a wonderful day, my love for my parter, family.
The poems I'm going to share with you this week are probably going to be my own, and they were written during or about times of intense emotion in my life. I haven't shared several of them with many people, because they are near and dear to my heart. However, I want to share them with this community because I feel that others might relate to them also.
(Am I supposed to share one in the meta post? Well, I'll just share a short one.) First up is one that I have posted on my own Dreamwidth journal, but I think it bears sharing. I wrote it as a response to how I felt when people asked me how I was doing at a point when each moment felt like I was being pulled deeper into an abyss. However, people generally don't want that level of detail. They want to hear that you are "fine."
Fine
byuntonuggan
they call these days fine
in England the land of erupting
thrashing rain pours forth
into drizzle
rivulets running down sodden green fields-
the green dazzles emeralds
on fine sun-splashed summer days
I call myself fine
in parties to passersby the polite
thing to do is mask the deluge
threatening to erupt amidst the fog
mist abyss with no landmarks
so easy to lose oneself on the moor-
then at last a mooring, latch onto safety
wait as the howls of lashing lost winds pass
deep breaths soften tear-laced throats
releasing unrestrained voices of a thousand sparrows
chortling chirping welcoming
weary travelers to a fine cup of tea
staring at barometers is pointless
no storm endless
brilliant days cycle into night
poetree host for the week, and this is my intro/meta post.In Shakespeare's time, people threw poems into the graves of their friends. It seems like such a lovely custom - to send someone off with such an intimate farewell. When people ask me why I haven't published more of my poems, I often struggle with how to express that many are deeply personal. I write to cope with mental illness, chronic pain, grief. I write to celebrate a wonderful day, my love for my parter, family.
The poems I'm going to share with you this week are probably going to be my own, and they were written during or about times of intense emotion in my life. I haven't shared several of them with many people, because they are near and dear to my heart. However, I want to share them with this community because I feel that others might relate to them also.
(Am I supposed to share one in the meta post? Well, I'll just share a short one.) First up is one that I have posted on my own Dreamwidth journal, but I think it bears sharing. I wrote it as a response to how I felt when people asked me how I was doing at a point when each moment felt like I was being pulled deeper into an abyss. However, people generally don't want that level of detail. They want to hear that you are "fine."
Fine
by
untonuggan they call these days fine
in England the land of erupting
thrashing rain pours forth
into drizzle
rivulets running down sodden green fields-
the green dazzles emeralds
on fine sun-splashed summer days
I call myself fine
in parties to passersby the polite
thing to do is mask the deluge
threatening to erupt amidst the fog
mist abyss with no landmarks
so easy to lose oneself on the moor-
then at last a mooring, latch onto safety
wait as the howls of lashing lost winds pass
deep breaths soften tear-laced throats
releasing unrestrained voices of a thousand sparrows
chortling chirping welcoming
weary travelers to a fine cup of tea
staring at barometers is pointless
no storm endless
brilliant days cycle into night
no subject
Date: 2011-10-26 03:14 pm (UTC)