poem: Acknowledgment

so this is like trying to fold

      a spring breeze

   into a kite

 

and flying it into a hurricane.

   in Afghanistan, they coat

the string with glass, so it cuts.

 

      I thought once I had an idea

what the hell I was doing.

    I forgot what a sense of humor

 

that b***h of a manager really has.

 

all my carefully drafted notes

       sketches, equations, time tables-

    useless now. I knew how

it was supposed to happen,

 

   d****t. Had it all planned.

I, the martyr, waiting patiently

       for one who would never show.

 

Gave me poetic license, you see.

 

    Three words from you-

   I come to an abrupt standstill-

 Continued inertia flinging things

      off- clothes, ego, dust mites.

 

and here I am.

 

   Staring, naked, at an empty page,

a sky without kites.

      realizing-

just how empty it has been.

   

 

 

Reviews

[Corset]

This has a few buzz words in it that rips my heart out, so please just roll me out the door when the blubbering gets too loud...this place will be the death of me yet, this poem...is killing me and you will please forgive me should i bleed a little on it...as I wish someone had written something along the lines of this for me. You are an immense talent Marie...to make me cry is not an easy feat...and you won't knowwhy, but this effected me in ways I can't explain. just..thanks for writing your words for me to form them into my mind just for me, lol. this is for me right? lol, jk...I loved the b***h of a manager line, ahhhhhh that's ...where did that come from? I wish I could explain...better, why this moves me so.

[Marie Anzalone]

No worries, Corset. You are free to express yourself on my page any time. A small handful of writers on here have made me cry, too, with their works. dana had me bawling one full morning, for things I had no words to express. I may not know your story... but I can guess its nature, based on the content of this work. Unrequited love is tough on the soul. I wrote this for everyone who has ever been afraid to accept a hand offered to them, even if for just one dance. It gets cold and lonely, slowly, out there. You often don't notice it until so much time has passed. You turn around, and something vital is gone. One of my best friends here left the WC today, too. I am saddened beyond words. He had unknowingly helped inspire so much of my work. I am glad I told him, before he closed his account. Life is like that- you have to take chances in love, even if it is just to tell a friend how much they mean to you. That you love them for who they are, not necessarily even who they are to you. A few Soemones did that for me recently, and kept me here. This was written for one of them.

[LJW]

Thanks mega intelligent and poignant scientist lady girl friend.

[Emily B]

it needs no words, it exists all in its own sphere

[Marie Anzalone]

always startling to get reminded other spheres exist

[Emily B]

yes, but still we stand

[Marie Anzalone]

What else is ther eto do? In the US, we make such a big deal of things, claim they are of the devil or some hooey like that. Down here, we just shrug and acknowledge that some people are born and work that way. life is a lot simpler when you juat start accepting people for exactly who and what they are... then simply decide how much influence you want them to have in your life. The negotiation is the tricky part.

[J_Star]

This is so very sad. It really captures how deeply frustration can cut.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thanks, J. Many saw the same as you, and it tells me perhaps I was not clear. Frustration can and does cut deep. So does loneliness. We make plans to have both overcome. Our great master Time does always listen to our plans. Likes to challenge us in unusual ways. Those challenges- that is what this is about.

[J_Star]

Ah, that makes sense.

[LJW]

So sad. Almost maniacally so. What could hurt more....than this place I am right now, trying to explain the unexplainable in words.

I am in this place, avoiding kites.

Powerful and poignant at the same time. Like the author.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you very much for your thoughtful review, LJW. The unexplainable into words is exactly what I meant by the opener. Sometimes, we focus so much in one area of life over another, that we neglect something important, and it takes someone tapping us on the shoulder to remind us to look back and realize how empty things have been for us in those aspects. I had someone do that for me recently, over a whirlwind few days. Not sure what any of it means, but it feels like flying a kite into a hurricane, so I wrote about it. Life happens when you're busy not looking. Soemtimes the good things leave you stripped and naked, too. So, the sadness here is really a past examination. I like to think I have finally left all of this grand hurt behind me. I started writing to release some deep intense past pain, but now, I am trying to focus on present, and write about wonder and joy and the world around me and life's betrayals and excesses. What reached out for me was an excess that I will have a hard time ever believing I deserve. That, too, is humbling.

[LJW]

Life itself is humbling. We are blessed with intellect and cursed by intellect.....set apart from other species by our hearts. It's all too big to comprehend. But still we try.

[Marie Anzalone]

are we the only species that tries to comprehend its own existence? In all seriousness, I often wonder about dolphins.

[LJW]

I think I might go out on a limb and say yes, we are the only ones.

There are no dolphin suicides.

[Marie Anzalone]

poignant and valid point, LJ.

[Clockwork]

I agree with jacob. I remember reading one of the first drafts of this piece that you posted and I was blown away by your opener about the kite in Afghanistan. That is absolutely awesome, one of those line you look at and say to yourself, damn I wish I wrote that. Anyway, I like the progression from there. The idea of the disrupted plans and then being totally stripped down to nothing at the end. Nice tie in bringing the kite back to the begging.

I would probably have to look at it again, but I think I may have preferred the original line arrangement of the first two stanzas (I think they have changed since I was here last). But that is really a small point in the grand scheme of things. This piece ranks up there with "A Dull Knife" as one of my favorites from you.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you, Clockwork. I did play with line spacing alittle on this one, but I think I only recall adding a single word, maybe a comma in my revisions. Correcting my typos, but that goes without saying.

Looking back- you are right. My first line was longer. I changed it because I thought it looked unbalanced, as it turned out longer than the rest and looked out of place. I am glad you liked this, and saw the progression, the struggle in it. We all have those moments of clarity that lay us bare. Takes a lot of courage to go one from them. Many become lost, I think.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

intensely describing loss...the kites are the feelings battling within...and some are spiked with a glass that cuts so deep...

i like the ending...it is like stripping down to nothing but the longing...

here i am...the bare bones and skin of what i once was with you...now i am a kite flying into the wind with no purpose, no direction, and about to break into pieces.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you for the review, jacob. I really do have to work on the wording of this one, I think. Coming and going can look too similar, I believe- and have the same effect.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

don't work on it too much...it really is a good poem as is...sometimes too much tinkering harms rather than helps a piece that came out pretty naturally and had that kind of breezy feel to it.

jacob

[Marie Anzalone]

thanks, jacob... considerign. usually for me, tinkering means changing a line spacing. or correcting one of my millions of typos

[Larry Dyson]

my question is ...Is he still tugging?

[Marie Anzalone]

hmmm... nothing about this could be classified as a "still".. all new, all good

[Larry Dyson]

great to hear...i'll drop you a line for a update ..perhaps?

[Marie Anzalone]

sure thing, EM. I would be glad to share the latest.

[Frieda P]

Outstanding, this one weaves itself in and out, with such thought patterns that I've internalized.

I thought once I had an idea
what the hell I was doing.
I forgot what a sense of humor
that b***h of a manager really has.

That reminds me of 'if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans'....

A sky without kites, how very bittersweet this is....

[Marie Anzalone]

Thsnk you very much for the review, Frieda! You nailed the point of this dead on: Life is exactly what happens while you are busy making other plans. And yes, I do see my writing as a kind of weaving. Light, colors, images, sensations. Sometimes I feel like I am trying to paint in words, in different styles. What happens when you bring an artist to a writing site, I think.

[Marie Anzalone]

sorry for the typos... I am a horrible typist. I spend more time correctign typos than writing

[ríða andlit]

I always found the idea of warring kites rather fascinating. The skill that's involved, the passion, bloodied hands trying to win out, trying to be the last one standing, through the pain, they persevere, giving us a delicate dance in the sky for our eyes to feast.

There are so many wonders tucked into even the most remote corners of our world. You are an extensive traveler so I know I don't have to tell you that. It just boggles my mind that we all get so wrapped up in our daily goings-on, we do, indeed, forget to look up at the kites, and when the sky finally empties, we feel the tug.

[Marie Anzalone]

The warring kites is sublime, isn't it? I actually am nowhere near as travled as you, having only traveled to 2 countries outside of the US. Love of place can be just as arresting as when the right person shows up in your life and stands in fornt of you saying, "OK, now what the hell do we do with it?" These mountains called me as clearly as if they had picked up the phone. A co-worker took my hand and led here here 12 years ago.

I wrote a poem for an artist friend, called "We Paint the Sky." In it, I have a line about how, with our truest art, the paint is our own blood and the paintbrush made of our own bones. It does not matter if the medium is words or paint or music. When we put our souls into what we do... others know. My friend puts his in 150%.

That tug. And what to do when it comes? You are one of two people who "got" this one. I salute you for that, and thank you. You know what I am up against.

[Ken Simm.]

A sky without kites. A page without the music of your words. To wish for someone who is not there is the true sadness. It is a single voice singing lonely acapela in a vaulted hall.

[Marie Anzalone]

Ah but look again, Ken- it is not the emptiness that is directing but rather the arrivla of someone who makes the narrator see the emptiness. Many thought the same as you did. Any suggestions for fixing it?

[Marie Anzalone]

*arrival>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

[Ken Simm.]

I think you just have with what you said in answer to my review.

[Jack...]

You have a very unique style to your writing. It is as if I am sitting across the table from you just conversing. You have a way of allowing people to make themselves at home with your poetry. There is a certain familiar comfort in them. This was very nice, though I understand the theme may not be so comforting, the way the poems feels when it is read is.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you for the review, Jack, and for the comments about my work and style. They are much appreciated. Interesting to me that so mnay took this one as being about a person lost instead of found (which was my intent). I am going to have to revisit it, I think, and see what I can fix to make it more clear? I do try with my writing to search for some element that others can relate to; seems to me I have always done that for as long as I can remember, almost as if I am asking, "how can I explain what I see to someone else?" Your comment made me realize that is what I do... so thank you for that.