From What am I thinking?on
For good or bad, we often know the reasons why we find ourselves alone. If one is true to ourselves whilst alone with their thoughts, one knows. Nice words.
From What am I thinking?on
Many thanks and a Happy Christmas and New year to you.
Kindness is a super power that we all possess but fewer and fewer people seem to want to wield in society anymore. A lovely poem mate.
Thank you. I appreciate it.
From The Shrinkon
Liked your lead in joke, Aurelio, made me chuckle. Would be a much easier world to live in, even in Former USSR, todays Russia and China, if all people affected by mental health abberations were only non-suffering, eccentric people who should just be accepted, appreciated even, and left alone. Many are like that, most of us probably being lucky enough to be living in genuine democratic societies able to express/unload differing political, religious and ethical views, opinions, and convictions, which is therapeutic in itself, without fear of being sectioned, forcefully incarcerated and/or medicated!
Offering evidence-based help in the psychological, mental sphere, including medical psychiatry only occurs in these civilised countries if people themselves seek it. It has to be a subjective judgement, not what other people, especially family, think.
The diagnosis can be, and often is, that the fears of inadequacy are unfounded. Psychiatric intervention is only insisted upon where harm to self or others is a real and imminent risk.
Much of mental illness in the population is caused by dictatorship at State level, where the Goverment might well serve the people, but the State does not serve the Government,so called totalitarianism!
Good poem, made me ruminate!
From The Shrinkon
Thank you. Complementary deduction.
From Ode To Toeson
Ha ha, very droll. I might have written ‘falling on my arse’ but hard to rhyme with toes! Love the repetition and the last verse is priceless. Good one, Trevor.
From Ode To Toeson
Your comment Tony, which I thank you for, made me think that we should have an extra toe, or perhaps a thumb, at the back of our heels, like birds have? Then we’d be less likely to fall (totally plastered) backwards onto our ‘arses’, and we could, with a little contortionism, scratch our backs, even our bums when the need arises? Make trainers and socks look a bit daft though!
Hi Mental Elf
I get it. what you say about how you write poetry. It comes straight to the page. If you ever wanted to progress a bit we could talk about metre and rhyme because there is so much in this poem that could be a winner with a bit of attention.
However, I get you and I think it can be more important to encourage than stop the flow. You are the boss!
(and stay away from dark alleys) 😉
Thank you Alison, I am aware how unaccomplished I am when I write… you’re right! But it just comes out that way and I hate rereading something and hunting for a viable rhyming word or phrase. By the way.. just about every poem I write has a line, just one from a song I love. It’s never intended plagiarism but always homage and a little tongue in the cheek. No one has ever spotted this, or if they have they’ve never commented. I’d like it if you read this below link…. Its pure truth, and I lived that life for a long time, before that my life was even more violent, controlled, trained but violent… That was my purpose. Oh and dark alley’s can be the best… although definitely if you read this… dangerous. But if you can stomach it I’d love your feedback, I’m writing snippets of my life.
Hi Tony old bean,;-)
When you write like this I wonder why you don’t write more poetry. So many lovely lines here. I like the way you intermix spirituality with the basic frustration of tossing and turning. I fully get it. For deep sleep is a blessing and in my world view and from personal experience, we are indeed in a different realm where dimensions can cross. Especially the ‘no man’s land’ between waking and sleeping when many people experience phenomena.
I suffered years of that . I love the thought of Morpheus driting by and dispensing some deep rest.
Somebody prodded me awake the other morning. It was as physical a touch as if the person was flesh and blood. I don’t know what they wanted.
Probably telling me to get up off my lazy arse lol.
I know without doubt Steve would say something like ” time gentlemen / ladies please. Ain’t you got a home to go to?”
Gives me a laugh thinking about it. I honestly don’t think most people ever consider the gift of deep restorative sleep unless or until they are denied it.
Merry Christmas fae Scotland!
Hi Alison. Lovely to hear from you if only to comment on my dodgy poetry. (You see what I’m doing, fishing for a compliment)! I know what you mean about weird, and sometimes, scary, dreamlike experiences. I’ll get around to reading stuff that you’ve posted recently (in the new year). You and I were always honest and helpful with reviews. Had some poetry published in NZ this year; very gratifying. Hope to read something new from you next year.
Have a happy X’mas Alison, and may the new year be good to you in every way.
Cheers from wet and windy New Zealand. It always seems to clear up after Christmas.
I found this poem to be full of a certain sadness, the kind that comes as we age and look back on memories but perhaps in a more realistic light than the intoxication of youth. The title is really good.
I love good titles for they can sum up in one word basically the gist of the poem. What is gilt but a very thin veneer of something precious but easly tarnished.
The short lines reflect the passing thoughts of the writer on drifting into memory.
The repetition of the last two lines have power too as they can be read two ways.
A very poignant piece. I also like to read the comments of others because I learnt a lot through the years from other’s opinions that I had never considered. I also like adventurous layouts. I once had a poem that lent itself into a perfect diamond shape that only became obvious when I centred the font to see what it looked like.
Anyway, good poem
Hello and thanks for taking the time to comment on my writing at this busy time of year. I appreciate the comments and the additional ideas you have provided. Poems are really just moments in time. A reflection on something that is expressed. I have no particular style or idea how to write a poem. They are a bit like a page of diary. That in the future someone somewhere might relate too. Thanks.
I think this type of poetry is the most rewarding to read and gradually interpret meaning, or messaging, and here, for me, you’ve done an excellent job, it’s an intriguing read. Breaking lines up is often used to slow down the intake pace, to get deeper comprehension of each word or phrase as the poem progresses. I think though Luigi’s suggestion would give better overall effect without losing anything. I like the title and how you use it throughout the poem. If you don’t want to use an intro, then writing the whole poem below the dividing line would reduce its thumbnail box on the front page.
Hi thanks for communicating your ideas etc. I think one or two words can mean so much. I like how words like gilt have interpretation attached to them. I love this as a title to this poem. I think if I tried to more words it would be too hard and frustrating. Thanks for the advice. Sue. I’m mean peter. No I mean Richard. I mean sue. Oh god I do have a split personality.
Fine sentiments, nicely expressed, as usual, Sue, but allow me to be critical about the line breaks of this poem. Most poets use enjambment which I suppose is what you intend.
An enjambed line typically lacks punctuation at its line break, so the reader is carried smoothly and swiftly—without interruption—to the next line of the poem. Just breaking stanzas into single lines does not enhance the flow of the verse.
I found a poem by Lucille Clifton which shows how to use lineation effectively.
woman who shines at the head
of my grandmother’s bed,
brilliant woman, i like to think
you whispered into her ear
Following this format, I’ve tried re-aligning your poem without changing a single word, thus.
I watched your life,
lived from a distance.
Through a looking glass,
a swarming swathe of silicon
and perfect impermanent persona.
Heat treated imprints of sand,
people and places.
Mostly memorable memories
And there was a time
when we won.
When once he stood,
cliff edge convex
seen for miles.
concave way to behave.
But we were only twenty-five.
how your shiny surface,
was only one per cent silver,
daily, distant reflection.
as I get older
Let me know your thoughts, x
I’m not sure who sue is. Are you mistaking swissterrace aka myself with a female.
Thanks for the feedback. I tend to write the way I do not for any reason. I don’t like long strings of words. But thanks for the alternative way of writing this poem.
I am terribly sorry to have mistaken you, swissterrace, for sweetwater whose name is Sue and a female contributor. That is the problem with pseudonyms that don’t give any indication of gender and can easily be incorrectly read especially by an old codger like me. Of course, an author has his/her preferred writing style but I believe that a reader has to give honest feedback, give a constructive criticism which the author may accept or dismiss.
Kind regards, Luigi (also known as Ionicus)
Always liked this skilfully-worded poem, franciman, one of many of yours that are a delight to read and savour. I hope your ‘muse’ responds with much inspiration enabling you to repeat this trend!
In peace, Goth