1.21.2012

through the looking glass

Infuriated, I slam doors,
unable to think, freezing him out,
refusing to discuss it.

You take a leave of absence
to be with your dying love, holding
fast, refusing even to eat.

What can I learn from you?

You have 35 years, we have ten.
I want twenty-five more
and at least a hundred after that.

What if my love lay dying? I'd wail,
scream, die myself, without a doubt.
I am so sorry for your loss.

Going to be with him now.

I was introduced to a new (to me) form called the Sevenling. Here's the description from The American Poetry Journal:
Sevenlings
This was challenging for me to write, and I'm sure it will go through more revisions, but I figured I'd post it now as maybe some of you would like to write one. Please let me know if you do. Good luck!

17 comments:

  1. A very intriguing form which I would like to try.
    The you and me of this poem is heart-breaking: the speaker's sympathy for the loss of another's beloved and fear of the same fate is palpable.

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    1. try it, kerry! this was a difficult subject in any form, plus i have four different people here, so i had to keep working on it to make it clear. er, at least i hope it's clear :) but the Sevenling is fascinating & i'm gonna try it again.

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  2. I love how stark and final the last line presents itself.

    Thsi was a strong piece. I had an emotional reaction too it.

    bravo

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  3. I love the emotional undercurrents and poetry form. Thanks for sharing it.

    I am trying this ~

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  4. thank YOU for reading. it is an interesting, and I think challenging, form.

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  5. Love the sevenling form and you do it so well. I can really feel the emotion in this poem, and the fear. I hope you have 125 more years too.

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    1. sigh. i want to live forever, actually.

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  6. I did find it clear that four people were involved... This poem (and such a difficult form too!) moved me.

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  7. i have these silly little poem rules that I impose on myself and then expect others to follow them for no reason. One of those rules is that I do not like to write questions in my poems. I staunchly believe the reader should be allowed to craft their own questions about the narrator, the other going on's and then explore on their own. Questions can be intrusive to a reader. The question you used here, I find an exception to my silly poem decree.

    What can I learn from you?

    Came as such a great transition to the second half of the poem it read more like a sigh than a question. Well done and viva la

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    1. hmmmmmmm. that is not one of my rules, i ask questions all the time.
      maybe you would find that annoying!
      thank you for coming to read and for sharing this, it's something for me to think about.

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  8. Good Goddess, Girl!
    You did it... twice! The sevenling taunts me; but you have shown that mastery is possible, so I will try. Fearful as I AM, you have offered grit. I shall give it a go; and I thank you! ;-)

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    1. oh Kim you know the pleasure is mine :)

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  9. Twice. I had hard enough time doing one. This one is raw with emotion!

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  10. :) i had a hard time writing it!

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  11. Thanks for steering me over here, Marian. I especially felt the final 7.

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