Live Journal Idol Exhibit B Week 7 - hands

[eeyore_grrl]

It's an open vote week over at LJ IDOL... feel free to go vote for me or others. :D http://therealljidol.livejournal.com/670715.html

                            		hands
			      (a poem in three people)

			i.

to hold 
to touch 
to learn and know a body

my hands can no longer recall the feel of you
they don’t recall if your skin was soft or desert dry

i imagine, remember you, as a whole
i can’t break you into parts for poetry 
you are all or nothing now

to hold
to touch
to learn and know a body

your hands once knew me so well
frigid winter we walked, hands clasped and in one coat pocket
				together
		through the streets of the east village
		unable to get enough of each other

but 
      home 
                you would not touch me in public
we did not hold hands as if dating
                                                         but hugged as polite friends
	as if 
        our bodies were foreign, not intimate
	as if 
        we were just -- like we said

		your hand a ghost in mine as we walked
					       as we sat to watch television
				   	       as we said goodbye
		your hand
		                  a ghost




                    ii.

i barely knew your hands
yet i loved you

you were a social studies teacher, soft handed
but your calloused fingers were rough against my skin
those precious few times we were together

we never had a chance
			   to know each other
     never had a chance
			   because it ended so abrubtly one day

you stopped picking up the phone to answer my calls
       when you stopped trying to touch me, kiss me

we were coworkers, 
      then toys
      then friends
      then more
      then nothing

we were nothing, but so much more

			iii.

at night
when the demons come out 
      and sleep betrays me for their chorus
i touch you
      just a hand placed on your side or back
	 a foot touching yours
      to remind me that they lie
			(they lie even when
  			 they retell truth)
at night 
when the demons come
     i want to rebel
     tell them off
     stand up for myself
yet i lie there
	          a quivering child
	          frightened of the voices
	my hand reaching out in the dark of our bed
	reaching for stability and solace
	           a quenching of the hate
   	           a quenching 
			        of the fire

last night i slept alone



                          ---------------

video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ja6WiJdgewU&feature=youtu.be

Comments

[mac-arthur-park.livejournal.com]

Beautiful and painful.

[eeyore-grrl.livejournal.com]

as is life.

[roina-arwen.livejournal.com]

These are all lovely, but the third one is my favorite. Very evocative, each with their own mood.

[eeyore-grrl.livejournal.com]

As was each relationship, unique. The third part is my favorite also.

[x-disturbed-x.livejournal.com]

I love all of these poems. You are really good at poetry.

[eeyore-grrl.livejournal.com]

Thanks. Years of working and honing.

[meepalicious.livejournal.com]

i can’t break you into parts for poetry
you are all or nothing now

(they lie even when
they retell truth)

This whole poem is completely beautiful, but those are my two favorite parts.

[eeyore-grrl.livejournal.com]

I am rather fond of the first line you quote. And I find it interesting that I can't break her down anymore. I mean, it makes sense, it was so long ago, nearing 20 years now, but still. As a poet I'm used to being able to break people down if need be.

[oxymoron67.livejournal.com]

I envy people who can write poetry, my brain doesn't work that way.

I really think the third one is especially evocative.

[eeyore-grrl.livejournal.com]

Thank you. I feel lucky that i found poetry as a young'un and had the chance to work on it on and off throughout life.

[halfshellvenus.livejournal.com]

I loved the sadness of "your hand a ghost" in the first one, but the third was my favorite overall.

(they lie even when
they retell truth)
That would be one of the hardest things to keep in mind at such a time-- that reinvoked or misspoken truth is still a lie, especially if it hurts and harms you.

[eeyore-grrl.livejournal.com]

as i've discussed in previous posts, i fight depression. i battle. this is part of the battle. a big part in the middle of the night.

[kajel.livejournal.com]

I agree that the third part really stands out. Beautiful.

[eeyore-grrl.livejournal.com]

Thank you.

[tatdatcm.livejournal.com]

Beautiful once again, each with is own sense of sadness.

[eeyore-grrl.livejournal.com]

Thank you thank you.

I knew the last one would read as a break up poem, but it was just a weekend away when I couldn't sleep.

[cheshire23.livejournal.com]

can't break into parts...that fits so well.

[eeyore-grrl.livejournal.com]

I didn't even notice that part! It is said that the poet gets credit for the readers' interpretations so i'll take it. :D

[acalculatedname.livejournal.com]

for some reason it was the second one that got me the most. but i see why everyone's all about the third one too.

[eeyore-grrl.livejournal.com]

thank you. i felt the second one more when i lived it.

i've been wanting to "write" the first two for so long, but it hasn't come out right.

the third section, while it seems the strongest, isn't done yet. i keep trying to write a love poem to my husband and it is either too sappy or too broken. this one feels broken, but it isn't. i made the poet's choice to leave it sounding like a break up poem. Where in the first section i can't break her into pieces anymore I can't write him whole. It's odd.

[adoptedwriter.livejournal.com]

Lovely yet heart-breaking. AW

[eeyore-grrl.livejournal.com]

as is life i think. i wouldn't be who or where i am without the heartbreak of the first two.

[jem0000000.livejournal.com]

*hugs*

[eeyore-grrl.livejournal.com]

thanks. though the last poem sounds ending, and i made a choice to leave it that way, i'm good. my relationship is sound. :-) it's nice.

[michikatinski.livejournal.com]

All the hugs coming your way. And big thumps up for poetry. <3

[eeyore-grrl.livejournal.com]

Thanks for the thumbs up on poetry. I know I'm not the only one here, but poets are rare. Sometimes I feel like I am fighting in the wrong arena.