The Broken Bones of Hope

I'm taking a poetry course at Coursera called Sharpened Visions with Douglas Kearney.

So far (I'm on Lesson 2), I've learned that poetry is about sound and rhythm. And many rewrites. First assignments are two poems involving images (concrete things) and symbols (abstract things.)

These are first drafts that have not been workshopped yet. We'll see how they progress.

Make A Still Life: Without All of That Messy Paint

In the tradition of the Imagists, write a poem that describes an object. Be as literal and vivid as possible. Pick up the object (if you can), look at it from as many different angles as possible. Consider its color, its weight, its texture, its material and write up a picture!

Object: Red Heart Christmas Tree Ornament

burgundy, claret, merlot, blushing berries

straw, rasp, goose, chokecherry and bittersweet gems

ruby, rosy, glowing crimson bubbly bumps of blown

silica, white dots skipping on the shiny surface

sparking interior depths, slight, light, fragile

glass, brittle but unbroken, uncracked, reflecting 

back to back flames in Braille bumps,

sanguine beats, heart beats, distressed beats

surrounding the clavicle head, smooth neck top

crowned in delicate gold tracery 

Hello, My Name Is…: Title as Poem Catalyst

Think up a poem title structured as such: The [Concrete Noun] of [Abstract Noun]. Then, write a poem based on that title.

The Broken Bones of Hope

Despair is in the air seeping through

The cracks in your defenses, sucking

You dry, emptying you until you become

A husk, dried and lifeless, dust to dust

So you look for the carcass of hope

The throbbing ache of broken bones

A rotten tooth that you wiggle and wiggle with

The tip of your tongue, daring the pain

To linger and keep you awake at night

Banishing the gaping chasm of nothingness

hope is a four letter word

~ click image to make biggerer ~

All I can say is that I keep coming back. I don’t give up easily. Not sure why. I do believe there is a solution to every problem, you just have to keep trying. The constant struggle is tiring but I don’t know how to give it up. I wouldn’t make a good Taoist. I can’t even envision what the opposite of struggle would be.

It might involve staying in bed all day. I do like sleeping because my dreams are so vivid and entertaining. I learned how to direct my dreams many moons ago so I can often go on scripted adventures to places I’m interested in with people who enjoy the same things I do.

I once went to an alpine cave, high above the tree line. There was a roaring fire, overstuffed armchairs and spiked hot chocolate. I was joined by quiet companions. We sat around reading together. At night, we went out on the mountain and touched the stars.

Loneliness and being alone are rarely problems for me. I have no problems entertaining myself. And I do need lots of alone time to recharge. There’s too much noise everywhere. I took at test once on reading facial microexpressions and scored quite high. You’d think that would be a good thing but I think what happens is I can’t reconcile what I see in people’s faces and the words the speak. The dissonance is too disconcerting. It takes way too much energy to negotiate the social arena. And god forbid I try to do it when I’m tired. That’s a major disaster.

I can go great periods of time alone and happily so. There’s always something to do, something to think about. It’s usually curiosity that gets me up and moving. I’m very nosy. I need to see what other people are doing. People watching is fun. I like sitting in a back corner and checking out interactions, listening to conversations. Just call me Peeping Tom.

Today’s topic was hope. I don’t think I have come anywhere near helping someone have hope. I’m pretty sure this whole post is very depressing. I do keep hoping that by some action of mine I’ll create some beautiful fantasy land where everything is perfect. Of course, that would require that I had any idea what a perfect world would look like. And I don’t.

There wouldn’t be any bugs. Just thinking about bugs make my skin itchy. I like Winter and most people like Summer. I like the changing seasons. I wouldn’t have to do dishes, or laundry or cook dinner. I wouldn’t get bored.  People would tell me interesting and fascinating stories to keep me entertained with lots of jokes. I like jokes. I could drink citrusy frozen margaritas all day from morning to night and take naps in between. There’d be no time or schedules or To Do lists although I really like lists. Practical things would magically get done. I couldn’t have people waiting on me or working for me because I’d feel bad that they weren’t having any fun. See how hard this perfection thing is?

Back to Normal

* comments on journal posts closed *

Everything is back to normal between me and my mother. She was so nice to me on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. On Thursday, when she knew my father would be coming home and he would be ok, she was back to criticizing me. I had hopes that she would remain as pleasant and nice as she was on the first three days of the week but no such luck. It amazes me after fifty years I can still hope for change. I guess it is good that hope never dies but it sure is disappointing to be disappointed repeatedly.

My new kitchen table and chairs make me happy. We were left some furniture in the house when we bought it (we bought the house from friends.) The kitchen furniture had metal legs and the table a plastic covered top. The seats were cloth. Not good for cleaning up after a three year old. It was all too big for the space, too. We have an older house that began as a “summer house” on the Delaware River for Philadelphia residents back in the Thirties. Started out small and bits were added on. I found a wooden set with leather-like seats. The table is six inches more narrow and about ten inches shorter. And there’s a bench for the wall side of the table. It has a dark finish so it contrasts nicely with the strawberry blond color of the cabinets. The set has all of the features I wanted. Now I need to find bar stools for the counters. They are metal, too. Clumsy and loud and cold.

I promised myself I would not leave the house today because of all of the running around I did all week but the sky is clear and blue and the sun is shining. I need to write today. What to do? What to do? Maybe I’ll take short walking breaks between three hour writing sessions. Although it is very windy and cold out there. The flags on the sailboat masts in the marinas next to us are flapping like someone shaking out towels. I’ll just start writing and see what happens. I may need breaks or I might not come up for air until it’s dark out.

I think I came up with a job to look for when I get my resume reworked. We had people from our insurance companies come in to do Safety Reviews. One of the consultants told me I had the perfect “skill set” to do the job. I wish I had paid more attention as I don’t know what the job title was. I’ll figure it out. I made notes for my resume, too. I will rewrite my resume during the first week of April and then start sending it out to see what turns up. I haven’t gone on a job search in sixteen years. I suppose this is how people feel when they get divorced after a long time. I can go about three months without panicking.

503