My First Poem Ever (Unless I’ve Got Repressed Memories of Public School Composition)

The day started out poorly. I couldn’t even sing along to Gerry Rafferty, I was unmoved by his sax solo. No car accidents into town, no realizations of my greatest fears: parking garage assault or malfunctioning elevator maiming. It could have been a good day but it just wasn’t going to be, so I set about my work methodically. My boss drove in from her summer home and got to the office rather late, so we had only a short time to review and get our cases out the door. I corrected a handful of my own mistakes, read an e-mail response on a time-sensitive case and sort of freaked out – panicking out loud from my office to hers. She barked at me, I teared up, and it was the end of the world. She remembered I am “sensitive” now – poor dear, I was so sane and solid for our 3 years together back at the turn of the century – & put her hand on my shoulder and told me to relax and smile. “I can’t” was all I could choke out.

I navigated angrily through the city – my city – to pick up M at his office and half wished I could run down some wayward pedestrian, then I could just go to some minimum security women’s prison, but probably not – and we had nothing to say to one another the entire ride up to the NH border. We stopped for some groceries and he said “I love you.” while we were selecting cereal. Inspired. I told him he wasn’t going to love me so much if I ended up back in the hospital, leaving him with 5 kids and his own satanic employment.

I wanted to get drunk and have sex. Death had been on my mind all day, hovering at the edges of my consciousness, and I couldn’t think of anything else. Maybe I need to pick up cutting. He was too tired for marital relations and I am dieting, so that left a bathtub. And, miracle of miracles, my brain composed a poem while I sat initially boiling, then stewing and finally relaxing in artificial grapefruit bubbles. Although artificial is probably the only way grapefruit bubbles come. So, we’re cool, Body Shop.

It’s suicide, so fair warning of anything triggering. I only have 1 trigger so it’s hard for me to know what triggers others, if suicide menaces you, STOP HERE. This is so stupid. But I’m going to publish it anyway.

A spider’s sphere

Untethered thread

I wait for it

To curl up dead

The sphere is creased

But cannot hide

A snuggly nest

For suicide

Don’t touch, don’t move

It’s delicate

Wrong signal call

The blood will let

Look closer now

A bridge, the rail

A pile of pills

Overturned pail

The cats, they know

They watch the sphere

The rest suspect

But not to fear

Inside the sphere

The image shifts

Great hills of snow

In measured drifts

It melts, of course

It always does

And pines and seeks 

For what once was

But nothing now

Irrelevance

Looms overhead

Electric fence

An emptiness

There’s nothing there

In blacks and greys

No colors fair

No sun, no pulse

Illuminates, 

Livens this sphere

It suffocates

No in, no out

Just trapped inside

Welcoming grasp

Death’s charms abide

Inside the sphere

All’s plain to see

Outside the sphere

It’s only me

A mind burned out

A heart forlorn

A soul battered

And cruelly torn

Mostly self-taught

This mental mess

Carefully wrought

Dark eloquence

Rattle that gate

Or climb, perhaps

But weakened still

No more relapse

Into a life

Devoid of light

In shade or hue

The weight of night

It’s there, of course

Beauty to spare

Can’t penetrate

The sphere’s black glare

A tiny tear

A quick landslide

A shattered sphere

Love, Suicide

 


Pretty miserable, huh? So I had gone to bed but could not sleep. I sat up & stared into space and then picked up my cell and logged into wordpress. And then I saw the post that I will reblog when I am not about to pass out. But thanks to Dotty Headbanger for saving me, if only in spirit, tonight. Fuck I’m tired.

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Comments

  1. I just couldn’t bring myself to hit the ‘like’ button on this one. Please don’t get me wrong as I very much aprreciated the depth of your feelings in this and am glad that I read it. But to hit ‘like’ just seemed wrong.

    Sadly those thoughts, those feelings are not unfamiliar to me. Not unfamiliar at all. But thankfully even as often as they come they do still go.

    I hope you got some rest and feel better today 🙂

    Kind Regards

    Kevin.

    • Thanks Kevin, Yeah, they do go. Just not when you tell them to. Thanks for reading, & for your thoughts.
      Big hugs,
      J

    • Agreed! Totally feels wrong ‘liking’ something like this, it feels the same way when I post on Facebook how crappy my day was and no one comments but I get 5 or 6 ‘likes’ My brain thinks “Do they really like that I am having a horrid day”
      Another reason Borderline is on my mind, cuz that is just the way I think. Everyones out to ruin my day I guess.
      Nice poem though, very beautiful words and descriptions.

      • When I hit like it just means I like the way it was written & that I get where you’re at. If I don’t comment it’s bc I have nothing to add & there’s very little advice I feel I’m qualified to make, aside from “hey, XYZ worked for me if you want to give it a shot” or “hope you get some sleep”. Sometimes I can’t come up with words. Sometimes I can. If you get a like from me, it’s coming from a good place. Pinky swear ❤

      • That makes sense. I understand. Thanks for that cuz I don’t really know where the like button came from anyways. haha

  2. Dear Magic,

    I hope you don’t feel as bad today, Magic.

    About the poem – it’s beautiful and captures those feelings perfectly. This being your first poem, I think your brain has decided to give you a new tool to use when you feel that way – don’t ignore it, poetry expresses much more than we think it does, and the acts of writing and honing are excellent distractions in themselves. Putting your emotions to work in order to create a brand new thing can help to control your feelings when you think you have no control. You’ve discovered a new talent – from out of the bad comes something good.

    Lots of love and a big squishy hug, Dotty xxxx

    • You’re a love. Thanks Dotty. Honestly, I felt way better after reading your post. Funny the things that can pull one out of the hole!
      Love & hugs back,
      J

  3. I enjoyed the poem and I’m not a fan of poetry so good job 🙂

    My poems and stories always got me notes from teachers saying “If you need to talk I’m here.”

  4. Dorothy says:

    First off let me say I really KNOW you wanted to run over one of those pedestrians and for good reason and I wouldn’t blame you in the least….I’d thank you!!

    Secondly, your poetry is awesome and just resonates with so much emotion and it makes me feel like I am stepping over broken pieces of glass trying not to step on the broken pieces. DO I make sense? I hope you write more when the inspiration strikes you but don’t think that it’s no good. The author is usually their own worst critic, let us decide!

    I also agree with Dotty….big hugs and lots of love!

    Dot

    • I love my blogging circle. Thank you, that’s actually a great critique!! The one time I write a poem it has to be about death, I feel like some half-witted Sylvia Plath. Anyway, thank you, & big hugs right back!

      XOXO

  5. Sharon says:

    The form of the poem mimics its content – spidery. For your first poem – KUDOS! You are totally a writer! Not only the soul but the talent too! Very nice!!!!

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