Broken

I try to avoid the tidal wave of bitterness

  but every day is a fight

  a torrid storm

Where the trees crash down, blocking my path

I am always falling over

My knees and hands cut with glass

Crystalising my hopes

  into little blocks, tiny shapes

That sit afloat

  a dank riverbed

And the river runs deep

The colour turning, darkening

And the crystals no longer shine

Any glimmer of hope being dirtied and mocked

Picked out by a hand

  placing my dreams on a wall

  in a crooked line, hung on rusty nails

Where people watch

  and stare

  stood motionless

I am a new page every day

In this bible of life

© www.mypastmademe.com 2011

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6 responses to “Broken

  1. I don’t think I have ever read a happy poem that I liked. They just don’t seem honest to me. Because why would we write about it, when we are too busy loving being happy? Poetry, for me at least, can only come out of pain and experience. It is not a bad thing, to capture darkness you felt in raw words. Would you really prefer to write average poetry if it meant it could be lighter in tone? I think that’s crazy. People read poems because they want to feel something, whether it’s empathy or absolution. You’re not going to offend them or scare them off with darkness. They will respond to visceral, heartfelt emotions. I say let it all spill out. And when some time has passed and you can read back over it with fresh eyes, you can improve it with new insight, hone the intensity of your craft and cut away the dead wood until it is a pure distillation of feeling.

    • Thanks for your detailed comment 🙂 You are absolutely right of course … and, yes, my best poetry by far has come from the darkest times of my life, but what I was trying to say (not very successfully) is that, because I am happy and content in my life now, my poetry is not on the level it was when I was going through hell. Raw pain and suffering produces good poetry, that we know, but it is not a place I would choose to go back to and – for this reason – I accept and prefer the level of poetry that I am writing at now because it signifies better times; I don’t mean this in the technical sense, as in I would prefer to write happy poems. I write my poetry as I feel it and I never go back and change it/improve it because it is pure expression in the moment. It’s not something I have wanted to be published or anything like that. However, my writing … now THAT is something I rewrite, rewrite, rewrite; that is my craft. I hope this reads well … I am not nearly as eloquent as you are!! 🙂

      • Doing a pretty good job of being eloquent so far!! 😉 Ah yeah, now I understand what you are saying and of course you are right. Now I find myself agreeing with you! 🙂
        Looking forward to reading more.
        x

      • Aha, why thank you!! 🙂 And thanks for all your comments … I look at your blog whenever I get time, although am having trouble managing my time these days :S Look forward to reading more of yours also 🙂 x

  2. “Picked out by a hand

    placing my dreams on a wall

    in a crooked line, hung on rusty nails

    Where people watch

    and stare

    stood motionless”

    I really like this imagery! The rusty nails speak of the decay of your dreams, and the people watching and staring are so judgemental…nicely creepy!

    • Thank you! Yes it’s one of my favourites (in terms of impact), but it was written during a very VERY dark time in my life … the misery used to just spill onto the pages. It’s a strange irony (for me at least) that I feel my best poetry has been written in times of utter despair, but obviously I’d rather opt for the not-as-good poetry with a dollop of happiness instead 🙂 Having said that, I think I’m starting to write more uplifting things, although never truly as impactful as those dark times, not in my opinion … 🙂

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