Folding in familiar bound leather
scented necessity, comfortable cocoon
words like clouds, an escape
eiderdown for the soul

but what if they haunt?
creeping unseen and silent
under skin so stretched
it yearns to rip and shred.

Fighting, is in my blood
but embryonic I lay
waiting for the thrumming hum
to abate, finally peaceful

perhaps she thought the same
placing her head in the oven
blaming her daddy
anyone, for rotten demise.

There is no blame
grass always seems greener
hardly ever is
just a bitch from cradle to grave

Others free fall.
Maybe I’ll ride this White noise
embrace winds of change
and battle through the fog.

24 responses to “Fog

  1. I liked this but felt it could be tightened. When poems are so deeply felt, one needs to step back and become dispassionate as a poet–and cut! I hope you don’t mind me saying so.

    • I see what you’re saying, yes indeed. This could be written a million different ways in a million different voices, nut this isn’t a poem for a narrator. I wrote it for myself and am sharing it wiht a larger audience because I feel like I’m maybe not the only one feeling a little down on themselves?

  2. from one B* to another 🙂 put chocolate chip cookies in the oven instead (poor Sylvia). Actually, depression in the true bitch.

    I get this one, S. Nice write…

  3. “Maybe I’ll ride this White noise
    embrace winds of change
    and battle through the fog.”

    very moving piece, Shân, that touched me deeply.

    i am grateful sometimes that i am not “educated” when it comes to writing, specifically poetry. i would rather have the feelings conveyed than have a poem be technically “tight” ~ to me, poetry is all about the feelings. just one of the reasons i don’t attempt the forms like sonnets or triolets.

    • There is a freedom to say what you like in freeverse. I love it. I ramble, but this is where i started with all my humble beginnings. Dani you are a concise and formed free verse writer and with all poetry it’s a little part of self expression, so there’s beauty in all written words.

      Love you lady, I’ll be over later for a coffee 😉

  4. Again, I may sound like a broken record, but I do love this piece. After first reading it, I had to go home and watch her bio again. It’s scary to think that you can be such an enemy to yourself…when somewhere the light is waiting…certainly not in a gas oven though, you’ve got to turn the pilot light off!

    • I have been trying to analyse how her mind destroyed as it was by the end could push her over the edge like that. I came to the conclusion there’s a very fine line between utter genius and ,madness. Being of sound mind, and no where near genius, I couldn’t fathom how she could a bomb her kids the way she did.

  5. Ouch, a bit of sting with the Sylvia Plath bit thrown in there and all…quick, hard-hitting piece with bite in the words. Strong voice, speaking for a great many, I’m sure…and I absolutely adore this stanza:

    “There is no blame
    grass always seems greener
    hardly ever is
    just a bitch from cradle to grave”

    Don’t be deluded by what we think we see…nothing is as it seems.

  6. Fighting, is in my blood
    but embryonic I lay
    waiting for the thrumming hum
    to abate, finally peaceful

    Cracking piece Shân, love this stanza in particular. Not very active at the moment as you know, but reading a lot and had to leave a comment on this gem. This one will stay with me.

  7. This one actually had me shifting around, uncomfortable in my skin. Ovens are for food, not people, and I think the fog burns away if you light a fire. But sometimes one is just too numb to even think that far. Adroitly handling of a difficult subject.

  8. Leaves me questioning and a bit sad that she went to this place in life and in her death…but truth is it happened, it happens today and a subject that hedgewitch noted not easily written or talked about… did it with skill..and at least me questioning the why of it…bkm

  9. Ayup…writing through the fog, get this and don’t want to go back there either! A very strong well written poem…’maybe I’ll ride this white noise, embrace winds of change’ yep! : ))

  10. Shan,
    Strong emotion running thought this poem! Alot of times we just don’t know what could push someone over the edge. We hear of stories in which things at work are too stressful, and many would agree that well they didn’t have thought for their family. There are signs, but sometimes as a society, we tend to overlook. We all have our blue moments, but we also have people and other things that give us gentle reminders of what we have. Thank you for sharing.

  11. Nothing quite like those moments when everything collapses all at once. Your choice of imagery plays into the theme of the poem well, though I wonder if the staccato nature of montage-style thoughts about ones own limitations doesn’t indicate we are capable of breaking through those limits. There is a gentle pace to the poem (or perhaps I just read it that way, in which case, apologies) that gives off the impression of a narrator considering the wreckage and crying before she remembers to laugh. At any rate, I thought the poem read very well and if the tinge of darkness blinds you (momentarily I hope!) to the possibilities for change, the ending seems to admit the possibility, horror of horrors, that things might improve. The Wave Function of life & poetry. Keep up the good work, it’s always a pleasure to stop through.


  12. I was drawn in by that first verse and then brought to feel the conflict and doubt of the writer more and more with each following verse as the poem progressed. This is a very relate-able piece; one can only write out the angst and try to keep away from the oven. (Or, if it even works, use it to make cookies as shewriting suggests 😉 .)

Put me out of my misery people!

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