This is a good start, and I love its structure, the way it moves from one encounter with time to another. I’ve backchanneled Sue some thoughts about possible revision.
After some conversation with the Professor, I expanded and rewrote the above.
Losing Me in Time
I’ve wasted time working sixty hours a week for mean bosses, that don’t seek anyones needs or cares. So keep your tongue in cheek. They prefer the mild and meek.
I’ve misplaced time looking for lost things that were never found, maybe taken by a rat or discovered in the last place I looked. So roll your eyes and grab your keys ‘n hat. Finders keepers, losers weepers I laughed.
I’ve had time vanish in failed relationships that were lopsided, where I flipped from being a doormat to being a bitch. So now I will not bite my lip. or ever let them cause my heart to rip.
I’ve passed time watching movies with others, going places with people and being a mother having had help raising amazing children. Sometimes spits and spats with one another but in times of need, helping is never a druther.
I’ve used time to clean, organize and create, to read cards, people and energy til late Burning the candle at both ends sometimes to build a business upstate or change careers to law or sell real estate.
I’ve lost track of time being me while becoming the new and improved me by opening doors, and closing windows. Sometimes gaining knowledge, having the key and choosing paths that set me free.
In all those times in each and every chapter whether it was a time of crying or laughter as I endured gains and losses, I lost the me that I was briefly a captor for each me that is always the adapter.
Good job! Wise words, true, and right on! I’ve lost track of time being me while becoming the new and improved me by opening doors, and closing windows. Sometimes gaining knowledge, having the key and choosing paths that set me free.
Yep, we're fortunate enough to be living to a nice ripe age. And I'm hoping for true longevity! Well written. I like, "Youth irretrievable, my skinny gone, along with acute hearing..." that was so real.
You don’t have to come down so hard on yourself. It’s not true, and it doesn’t help the poem. It doesn’t allow people to get to know you. A more measured, detail-bases, less unfair assessment would let the reader in more.
I accept the death of my child nothing can bring her back my mother’s gone and so’s my dad a couple sisters passed... passed, such a lame word... they’re dead and gone from me i have my memory of each and every one the night before my daughter died i kissed her and said i love you it doesn’t make it easier but somehow it softens the blow my mom died in the hospital surrounded by her spawn we crowded in to say good-bye grand babies touched her face dad died all alone in a nursing home when no one could get to him my sisters died 68 years apart but time means nothing when the hurt is in the heart and they hold a happy, laughing place in my laconic life...
This is a oldie but goodie that fits the prompt in an interesting way, and I have been super occupied.
THE GIFT
"Lo and behold!" The magician said— he wore a robe and a pointed hat, and he waved his wand with a smile and a wink, then disappeared, so that was that, except for the gift he left behind wrapped in stars and a sky-blue cloud of soft material spidersilk fine. As I unwrapped it, I was glad to think that it was mine.
As I unwrapped it layer by layer, the package grew smaller and smaller still, the clouds of silk piled all around, surrounding me, a sky blue hill. The stars fell off, lay here and there, each one twinkling silently, each one somehow seeming to say, "We know what the gift may be."
At last the mystery was all unwound; I held in my hands a small red box, the gift at last! What was inside? I opened it up, it had no locks. I thought it empty and then I saw it held a card with instructions for me: "Put in this box what you wish to lose, it will be gone, whatever you choose."
I simply could not make up my mind; I clung to everything I had. What to lose? How to decide? I needed it all both good and bad! But I have the box still on a shelf, if ever I need it, I know it's there, and I comfort myself with the thought that I can erase what I want with never a care!
The stars and the silk hang over my bed, making a curtain of bright and blue And I sleep content in the wrappings of the Magician's gift I did not use. But as I grow older strange to say, there are things I no longer want that I lose and who knows about a small red box that sits on a shelf and has no locks.
I do find this poem to be more esoteric than your usual, less concrete images, more telling, less showing. What did you believe was wrong? What was the truth? Why did it hurt you?
All good questions, and to tell the truth, I wasn't thinking of any concrete example, though I could, now that you mention it.I was intending to show how something could be resolved by a change of heart. thanks for your thoughtful comment.
Sorry to be a nonparticipant this week. Working hard on my long medieval romance and writing my column for Verse-Virtual has stretched all my poetry nerve endings. But I will contribute this piece of advice from John Prine: “I think the more the listener can contribute to the song, the better; the more they become part of the song, and they fill in the blanks. Rather than tell them everything, you save your details for things that exist. Like what color the ashtray is. How far away the doorway was. So when you’re talking about intangible things, like emotions, the listener can fill in the blanks and you just draw the foundation. “
Losing Me
ReplyDeleteI’ve wasted time
working for others
looking for lost things
and in unsuccessful relationships.
I’ve passed time
watching movies with others
going places, seeing people
and raising amazing children.
I’ve used time
to clean, organize and create,
to read cards, people and energy,
to build careers and businesses.
I’ve lost track of time
opening doors and closing windows,
gaining knowledge, knowing better
and choosing paths.
In all those times
each and every one
I lost the me that I was
for each me that I am, briefly, in time.
Sue Manocha
5/31/2020
Saugerties, NY
Love it. Your acceptable losses to be who you are.
DeleteI enjoyed your poem. Good take on the prompt and a poem that is a real keeper. I like it.
DeleteMy word you are so quick!!!Made me think, your poem did. I find time fascinating myself, have written a pile of words poetically about it. Good job.
ReplyDeleteThis is a good start, and I love its structure, the way it moves from one encounter with time to another. I’ve backchanneled Sue some thoughts about possible revision.
ReplyDeleteAfter some conversation with the Professor, I expanded and rewrote the above.
ReplyDeleteLosing Me in Time
I’ve wasted time working sixty hours a week
for mean bosses, that don’t seek
anyones needs or cares.
So keep your tongue in cheek.
They prefer the mild and meek.
I’ve misplaced time looking for lost things that
were never found, maybe taken by a rat
or discovered in the last place I looked.
So roll your eyes and grab your keys ‘n hat.
Finders keepers, losers weepers I laughed.
I’ve had time vanish in failed relationships
that were lopsided, where I flipped
from being a doormat to being a bitch.
So now I will not bite my lip.
or ever let them cause my heart to rip.
I’ve passed time watching movies with others,
going places with people and being a mother
having had help raising amazing children.
Sometimes spits and spats with one another
but in times of need, helping is never a druther.
I’ve used time to clean, organize and create,
to read cards, people and energy til late
Burning the candle at both ends
sometimes to build a business upstate
or change careers to law or sell real estate.
I’ve lost track of time being me
while becoming the new and improved me
by opening doors, and closing windows.
Sometimes gaining knowledge, having the key
and choosing paths that set me free.
In all those times in each and every chapter
whether it was a time of crying or laughter
as I endured gains and losses,
I lost the me that I was briefly a captor
for each me that is always the adapter.
Awesome rewrite, and Tad's right, it "feels" more like you. Editing is almost as important as the first write.
DeleteI enjoyed your take on the poem! Time is a real loss....I use time as wisely as possible.
DeleteGood job! Wise words, true, and right on! I’ve lost track of time being me
Deletewhile becoming the new and improved me
by opening doors, and closing windows.
Sometimes gaining knowledge, having the key
and choosing paths that set me free.
Now there's humor in it, which makes me feel the real person behind it, and makes it much more poignant.
ReplyDeleteTeenage hippie,
ReplyDeletefourteen year old self
didn't think
I would live past 30.
Live fast, die young,
leave a pretty corpse.
Now I am
an old, fat, wrinkled crone.
Six more than twice
30, crumbling,
not gracefully.
I try to
appreciate aging,
not care about
things lost on the path,
getting old.
Youth irretrievable,
my skinny gone,
along with acute
hearing,
painless joints, energy.
Yet, I am still
glad my prediction
was not true.
Live long, die old, leave an
ugly corpse.
Yep, we're fortunate enough to be living to a nice ripe age. And I'm hoping for true longevity! Well written. I like, "Youth irretrievable, my skinny gone, along with acute hearing..." that was so real.
DeleteI remember that saying too, and I'm older than you, ha ha. Old and baggy is better when life sill fills us, so say I. I really liked this poem.
DeleteYou don’t have to come down so hard on yourself. It’s not true, and it doesn’t help the poem. It doesn’t allow people to get to know you. A more measured, detail-bases, less unfair assessment would let the reader in more.
DeleteDEATH
ReplyDeleteI accept the death
of my child
nothing can bring her back
my mother’s gone
and so’s my dad
a couple sisters passed...
passed, such a lame word...
they’re dead
and gone from me
i have my memory
of each and every one
the night before my daughter died
i kissed her and said i love you
it doesn’t make it easier
but somehow it softens the blow
my mom died in the hospital
surrounded by her spawn
we crowded in to say good-bye
grand babies touched her face
dad died all alone
in a nursing home
when no one could get to him
my sisters died 68 years apart
but time means nothing
when the hurt is in the heart and
they hold a happy, laughing place
in my laconic life...
Beautiful. Brought tears to my eyes.
DeleteLovely and sad, what can I say more?
DeleteThis is a oldie but goodie that fits the prompt in an interesting way, and I have been super occupied.
ReplyDeleteTHE GIFT
"Lo and behold!" The magician said—
he wore a robe and a pointed hat,
and he waved his wand with a smile and a wink,
then disappeared, so that was that,
except for the gift he left behind
wrapped in stars and a sky-blue cloud
of soft material spidersilk fine.
As I unwrapped it, I was glad
to think that it was mine.
As I unwrapped it layer by layer,
the package grew smaller and smaller still,
the clouds of silk piled all around,
surrounding me, a sky blue hill.
The stars fell off, lay here and there,
each one twinkling silently,
each one somehow seeming to say,
"We know what the gift may be."
At last the mystery was all unwound;
I held in my hands a small red box,
the gift at last! What was inside?
I opened it up, it had no locks.
I thought it empty and then I saw
it held a card with instructions for me:
"Put in this box what you wish to lose,
it will be gone, whatever you choose."
I simply could not make up my mind;
I clung to everything I had.
What to lose? How to decide?
I needed it all both good and bad!
But I have the box still on a shelf,
if ever I need it, I know it's there,
and I comfort myself with the thought that I
can erase what I want with never a care!
The stars and the silk hang over my bed,
making a curtain of bright and blue
And I sleep content in the wrappings of
the Magician's gift I did not use.
But as I grow older strange to say,
there are things I no longer want that I lose
and who knows about a small red box
that sits on a shelf and has no locks.
Wow. That really does fit the prompt perfectly. I like it a lot.
DeleteAnd here is a new one, just so I don't feel guilty...
ReplyDeleteGrief Lost
Once I wandered lonely,
lost in the wood of regret.
My thoughts revolved around a past
that I wished to forget.
And then one day a message
Was given to my heart,
And my regret was lost to sight
And swiftly did depart
For what I once believed was wrong,
and I am glad to say,
the truth dissolved my false belief
and soothed my hurt away.
I do find this poem to be more esoteric than your usual, less concrete images, more telling, less showing. What did you believe was wrong? What was the truth? Why did it hurt you?
DeleteAll good questions, and to tell the truth, I wasn't thinking of any concrete example, though I could, now that you mention it.I was intending to show how something could be resolved by a change of heart. thanks for your thoughtful comment.
DeleteSorry to be a nonparticipant this week. Working hard on my long medieval romance and writing my column for Verse-Virtual has stretched all my poetry nerve endings. But I will contribute this piece of advice from John Prine: “I think the more the listener can contribute to the song, the better; the more they become part of the song, and they fill in the blanks. Rather than tell them everything, you save your details for things that exist. Like what color the ashtray is. How far away the doorway was. So when you’re talking about intangible things, like emotions, the listener can fill in the blanks and you just draw the foundation. “
ReplyDelete