I’m Not Complaining (a poem, of sorts)

I am a wreck, a ruin – a life-ravaged soul, aching, longing to be free.

I don’t mean to complain.  I’m not complaining.  I’m hurting, can’t you see?

Am I broken, or was I never meant to be here at all, that I cannot handle this life?

I know nothing any longer but the weariness and longing, the exhaustion too intense to fight.

And, the metre’s out of sync, and the sorrow’s out of bounds,

my fatigue is fatigued; waking leaves me drained – let me sleep away my time –

and there goes the rhyme, along with the metre –

again, I’m a failure…

but, I’m not complaining; that should be plain to all.

I’m hurting, longing, aching –

and, like this poorly written verse,

my end is not forthcoming.

©Autumn Dawn Leader 2015

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Creative Recycling

Years ago I wrote a poem that I’ve ended up using quite a lot on social website profiles in the ‘about you’ section. It was sufficiently mysterious while also being perfectly autobiographical, and it was easier to copy and paste the poem rather than to think of something else witty and interesting to say about myself. How better to represent myself as the arty ol’ farty I am than to describe myself with a poem? Even so, it’s been a long time since I revisited that poem or even considered it in passing.

Poets aren’t always songwriters and songwriters aren’t always poets. Occasionally, however, the two do meet together in the one, and you end up with Leonard Cohen…and me. Sometimes there are too many words and not enough music, while other times the words are not enough and there must be music to carry the few that are there. Ah, but now, I really do wax poetic. 😉

But, please, indulge me.

And, where do the lost and forgotten poems go? Is there a graveyard for the written and discarded rhyme? You may not remember those scribbled lines. But, rest assured, they remember you. You may forget the words, but the words never forget. And, if you’re quiet enough, you can hear their whispered echoes, reverberating beyond time.

And, this is what it is to be a poet.

And, this is what it is to be a poet who is also a songwriter…and, what it is to be me.

Friends

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Not the sitcom, of which I was never a big fan. Don’t get me wrong, there were times that I caught it and was mildly amused. There were even times that, being forced to watch it, I had a good laugh (Smelly Cat comes to mind) but, overall, it was never going to be one of my fave shows. But, I digress.

Friends. This is a tough one for me because of the few times in my life I felt like I had found that lifelong friend, only to end up deserted.

Now, to put this into perspective, I’m talking about someone local, someone I can see and hug and hang out with. I do have (have managed to maintain) at least one dear close friendship (someone who knows EVERYTHING about me and still loves me and wants to be my friend), but this is a long distance thing. To find (and keep) a friend to trust, who lives close enough to visit regularly and do stuff with, this is another story.

Of recent times, it was a young woman with whom I shared the passion for making music. There were other things in common (like an off the wall sense of humour and an absolute obsession for all things Tolkien). And, whenever she needed someone to talk to, I made myself available. I became very attached.

My friend and I performed musically together. For me, strengthening the bond. And, at least once a week we got together for a walk in the park or a chat and cuppa.

But, when I became more open, more myself, sharing more of how I was really feeling about the mental illness and sharing my real opinions on life in general, she went away. I could’ve kept her as my friend had I not been myself…but.

I miss her. But, I wish her well. Sometimes, I still post something funny (that reminds me of some private joke we had) on her Facebook wall, not to get her to come back into my life, but just to acknowledge and give thanks for those good times. No longer will I beg for friendship, crying, “Why’d you leave me?”

But, this sort of thing makes a person cautious, scared of friendship in general. Especially to a person who gives their all in a relationship.

Maintaining a certain level of detachment, while sharing your soul with someone you feel a connection to, is difficult. I fall for my friends. I fall hard.

So, lately, it’s been odd when friendship – not just one, but PLURAL – has arrived at my (literal front) door (one under very unusual circumstances) and I feel that falling feeling again.

Of the most unorthodox of the meetings (actually, because of the unorthodox nature of our meeting), we have found someone we can trust to talk about EVERYTHING with. No need to hide aspects. And, amazingly, she lives a few streets over from me.

So, here I am, finding myself with a friend (more than one even) again, and even a social life! This is odd. For me.

And, it’s very scary, too. Lovely. But scary because of its loveliness, its preciousness.

I think I will always miss that musical friend, even though I know she has very much moved on, but, I have to admit, being able to truly be oneself with someone is more important than making music together. Because the friendship where you can be yourself is where real harmony is found. And, if that’s the only music I get from this, I will take it and be grateful.

So, here I go…I think this is lifelong friendship here. But, I’ve thought that before. I just don’t want to mess it up by being me…but, apparently, I can’t help being me. Sigh.

http://www.autumndawnleader.com

Blending In (A Fairy Poem)

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Ivy growing,
Tangled, knowing,
Whispers blowing
In the wind.

Seasons turning,
Fires burning,
Lessons, learning,
Breathing in.

She’s emerging,
Passion surging,
Love is purging
Doubts within.

Steps she’s taking,
Hope awak’ning,
Trembling, shaking,
Out and in.

Rustling, stirring,
Gently whirring –
Coaxing, luring:
“Now, begin!”

Dancing, singing,
Flying, winging,
Caution flinging
To the wind.

No more waiting
Contemplating;
Time for sating
Thirsts within.

Off she’s going,
Known and knowing,
Shown and showing
Herself again.

Seen and seeing,
Been and being.
Staying, fleeing –
Both her sin.

Ivy creeping,
Hiding, keeping
Secrets weeping;
Blending in.

© Autumn Dawn Leader 2013

It’s poetry, folks. Don’t read too much into it. Or, alternatively, read reams into it. The main thing? Just enjoy it.

Oh, and, yes. The fairy (pixie, ivy nymph) is ME (in the picture, that is…not, necessarily, in the poem..the poem not being autobiographical, that is. Any resemblance to myself or my own experience is completely coincidental, and I refer you to the previous paragraph). 😉

Alternative View

Consider, please…

Alternative View

I first wrote this back in 2005. The free verse poem has been on my mind throughout the day (it’s been one of those days) along with wondering whether to share the poetry here or not. Obviously, you see what I decided. However, once I made the quality decision to put it up (after a bit of an edit from the original and after creating an artistic background for it so it could be a share-able image – the highlight of my day), I had a considerable struggle getting it here since WordPress decided to go all stupid on me and refused to publish the post, insisting on keeping it a draft (even though I changed it to “publish”) and then, just to add to the crappiness of my day, it ate what I had written here – it wasn’t on the “draft” anywhere (only the poem/image remained), so I’ve had to re-write my commentary. After the day from hell I’ve had, I really don’t appreciate the sh*t…and, just when I was thinking WordPress was so fabulous (I doubt THIS post will be getting freshly pressed any time soon, oh well)!   I always think that when there’s a challenge to posting something that it means it should definitely be posted. Thus, after some colourful language, quite a few tears and the pulling of my hair, I have persevered. I certainly hope my perseverance will be worth it; if this piece provokes a thought or two then I will have done well. And, perhaps writing about the struggle to post it will encourage someone else who may feel alone in their frustration with blog-platforms who refuse to do as they’re told! Whatever the case, I welcome you to consider my thinking on something I am greatly looking forward to: the release I long for, which I believe to be… beautiful.