poem: Are You Hungry?

dedicated to the writing community that inspires and supports me

for E,J, P, and G- the members of the S.S. and several others. 

 

This is for everyone whose glory days did not end

    with high school graduation.

       For men who looked John Wayne in the eye,

   and said, sorry, partner

      I want to be part of something larger

    than my own dusty interior landscape;

        for women who dare believe

          if they take care in the choosing

      the happiest days will be the ones

          after the wedding. For art creators

      embarking on the high sweet notes that

            mark the tune of their

                 own dance.

 

 

This is for the boy who grew to be a man

     carrying a ripped and carefully mended copy

        of his earliest dream in the back

            pocket of faded Levis.

     And for the girl whose classmates

   read Cosmo while she isolated

           proteins and gave parents

    another year or ten of hope for

        daughters and sons in hospice. THIS is

     for the street-sweepers who bless

         the ragged and the cultured, alike

             in the transcourse of the day. It is for

     the teacher who keeps food in her desk

         and thinks to ask, "are you hungry, child?"

 

This is for those who say, it is too late for them

      but they will cultivate Hope

          in others.

 

This is for the housewife who fantasizes

       about slaying dragons and the prince who

   slays her. It is for a pair of worn motorcyle boots

           with silver buckle and chain,

             whose owner can only ever reach out

  so far, but whose span

        covers the spirit of humanity in

        a tired pen and learned prose. For the man

              who saw God in a cheeseburger.

            For the woman who sees ghosts

      and sews her whispered heart's longings

           secretly, carefully, longingly

   into the quilt that covers her lap;

            her smile deceptively serene,

                  gripping needles in fists

         so you cannot see her hands shaking.

 

This is for the artist who hides, laughing,

           in plain sight with his Lady Muse. For

  the star-crossed lovers who drafted

         equations of love on a tangential curve

     whose equilibirum was interred

              half a continent away. For those

         who hold out for soul mates

        and the perfection of a desire

               that this time, will not hurt. For

   those with the courage to walk away

        from what does not serve, to find the skin

they are comfortable in, to look

    for wisdom in sources that

   are younger than 2000 years and further

       away than around the block. For those with

             the wherewithal to make mistakes

          and pay for transgressions and still

    put it out there again, anyway.

 

This is for those who believe that Life is Love;

    that sometimes your sweetheart can be true

         for a lifetime, but know that often,

    we change. We change, and we

         hold the space for others and we fly

               and with our flight we give them wings too

        and we look deep into a pair of eyes,

    a stranger, and we swallow our fear,

       we put forth a burned hand

        and say I understand or I too have seen

or sometimes, even, I could love you, deeply.

 

This, then is for the believers,

  the timeless wanderers and old souls, the star

     travelers and channelers of old gods, the

          creators of new ones and the worlds in which

     they inhabit. Those with the power

         to face and confront demons. This is for you,

   loudly, for battering down the door of my fortress,

             and for you, quietly

     for taking my hand, for showing me

                a different way to see.

 

Are you hungry, my friend?

Reviews

[emmajoy]

And this, dear friend, is POETRY! You so often empty your heartfelt thoughts before your readers, trying perhaps in the most diplomatic ways (though sometimes with a hard nudge) to sit up, take notice, take head out sand or wherever else it is. In this you've selected groups and individuals, problems, actions and ignorance - much more of the latter. Too many suffer the lack of not just food but hope for something more than just opening eyes of a morning and finding life the same as every day past. Yhen, there are other words, other thoughts, about hungering for love, loving, for caring and more: '.. For the star-crossed lovers who drafted ~ equations of love on a tangential curve ~ whose equilibirum was interred ~ half a continent away. For those ~ who hold out for soul mates ~
and the perfection of a desire ~ that this time, will not hurt.'

A brilliance of words and thoughs, my dear friend.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you, dear Emma, for such a thoughtful and beautiful review. There are many kinds of hunger, and many ways for a mind, body, heart or soul to be hungry. I think we all, at times, have something to offer the hungry child, pilgrim, friend, or fellow traveler. A blessing, a sandwich, our leftovers from dinner, a hand on a weary shoulder, a safe space to unburden a heavy heart.

As I wrote thus, I found myself thinking of Lucinda Williams ethereal song, "Blessed." My gift for you today is, go to YouTube and find her words. I think you will see yourself in them.

[emmajoy]

I will rush, to be reminded.. thank you. On wed had such a friend call, Noddy his name, late sixties, needed company - recieved that from my family and friends. Soon gone, long remembered, and then there'll be next year and, God willing, many more years. He used to call at our parents' home, again for company. Company? How is it, on this jammed packed planet of ours that someone has to search for company? Too many people like that. 'If you smile someone's way, you light a light .. ' - how easy is that!

[Marie Anzalone]

very good question you ask. I recall being at a Pink Floyd concert, lights dimmed, listening to a stadium full of people singing along to "Wish You Were Here."Ten thousand people crowded together, singing about loneliness. Really makes you wonder. I am never so lonely as in a crowd of people who do not understand me; never so fulfilled as wandering my solitude on a mountaintop. I always thought the answer was to learn how to inhabit someone'e solitude quietly, without intruding. Adding to its depth, not masking it. But that seems to be a dying art.

[emmajoy]

Oh love.. I understand that loneliness whilst surrounded by people, and, agree how one can be truly contented when alone, especially outdoors, free as a bird! For me, being content with another person doesnt necessarily involve a non stop exchange of words, its more an almost oblivious awareness that talk isn't necessary - but sharing the same space is. Some folk need to be told they're loved time in, time out. The dying art is not thinking to say the same to someone else. Perhaps?

[Marie Anzalone]

I know I am the space of a true friend when silence becomes a warm thing that envelops us like a soft blanket. We all need validation- some just need more than others. Usually the ones who have forgotten innner stillness, perhaps?

[emmajoy]

Yes, perhaps - probably. It's having that feeling that 'you' matter, you're not merely present but needed to be present.. and vice versa. It must be 'vice versa' to be real, lasting. Surely?

[Marie Anzalone]

Cultivating the art of true presence is, I think, the most profund gift we ever developed to give each other. Not only "YOU matter" but that you matter so much I will create a space for you that your soul feels safe showing itself in my presence. You can be you, as deeply and honestly as you need to be.

"I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it." -Oriah Mountain Dreamer

[emmajoy]

What happens is, what happened was, and neither can be erased, it's like each life's rolling stone. When you find someone, be it friend or lover, you share the sum total, unspoken or otherwise, and, that makes for a very special space. Sometimes thoughts like that look like idealistic rubbish. But, realism so beautiful we can't want more and maybe if the will and heart's strong enough we can create the 'more'. Come to the conclusion, Rachael, that the more one's been hurt by years of whatever, the more one wants the light; being bitter or spiteful doesnt change whats happened. That special place might have the odd faint flaw but its yours and the other's ..Grief, doesnt this woman go on.. :)

[Marie Anzalone]

"the more deeply that sorrow has carved into your being, the more joy it can contain." -K. Gibranread more"the more deeply that sorrow has carved into your being, the more joy it can contain." -K. Gibran
You find those people, the ones you describe, and you hold on with both hands and don't let go"

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

wow wow wow
what a poem
you have hit the nails on the heads here
love it
good luck in my competition, thanks for entering

[Ken Simm.]

And this small return is for you dearest friend. Who finds ways through. Who pick the flow of the river that is right and does something about it. Who writes the poetry that stands head and shoulders above anything I read, anywhere, anytime. But perhaps more importantly does not just write what she see's she lives what she believes. The journey is all.

[Luke Rawlings]

This made me cry.. wow. Just wow.

[Jo Todd]

lol made me tear up aswell

[Marie Anzalone]

thanks, Luke, I hope it was in a good way?

[Luke Rawlings]

It was. You can inspire emotions really well. Saying that, I have not cried at a poem for a negative reason yet :P

[Baby Ricochet]

WOW!! Now I'm inspired to act!

[Marie Anzalone]

Thanks, Rico! Nice to see you here today :-)
Hope you have been well.

[Jo Todd]

I have goose bumps, you write with such elegance and poise, compared to you I feel like my writing is brutish and stunted.
I have to say this is the best poem I have read in a long while and I feel it will sit with me for some time.
In 10years if I could be half the poet you are I would be happy.
Absolutely gorgeous!

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you very much for both taking the time to read and review, and for the kindness of your words. I have been writing for well over 25 years. I remember when I first started on this site, I was so worried, because none of my work looked like anyone else's. I would find all of these amazing writers, and think I had no business at all even being here. I learned, though, that your own style develops by experimenting with what you see that you like that others are doing. There probably echoes of hundreds of different poets in my own words, and even a small smattering of things that really are truly my own. I always considered the privilege of being able to interact with the writer of works to be a priceless gift.

I checked out your own work, and saw that you have a strong voice of your own. I will be back to review when life is treating me a little kinder, time-wise. Thanks for stopping by, my new friend!

[Jo Todd]

Its been a year since i first read your poem and I still find myself coming back to it and it never ceases to move me. I hope life is treating you well, I am now going to a poetry workshop and will be performing in a show at the end of the month. Your words really helped me have more confidence in myself and I still aspire to be half the poet you are. xx

[Marie Anzalone]

Good luck at your workshop and show, Jo! You will do great :-) Your compliments this morning were completely unexpected and humbling. Thank you very much for coming back to visit me here. You made my morning.

[HavenMarie]

Wonderful poem my friend. :)

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you very much, Haven. I am glad you enjoyed my words.

[ríða andlit]

Absolutely famished! My dear, lets get devouring!

[Marie Anzalone]

Agreed... you bring the drink, I'll start some cooking!

[ríða andlit]

I can do that! I'll bring a vat of homemade salsa and chips, for a start, along with plenty of tequila!

[Marie Anzalone]

most of my friends would appreciate the tequila... I'd appreciate any food I did not have to cook right now. 18 hours over the last two days...

[Mike Emil]

daring women
and cheeseburgers, eh?
I could do this
confront my demons why dontcha?
HAI!!!

[Marie Anzalone]

Yep. Daring, uppity women. We are the ones who are going to change the world while you guys sit back and b***h. One of these days, you'll be making the cheeseburgers for us. and wheat then? only a matter of time until dogs and cats start living together.

[Mike Emil]

I never sit back
ok you caught me
I do sit back
but I make my own damn cheeseburgers because no one's as good a cook as I am
and cats pick and choose who they live with get that straight

[Cool Handless Luke]

This is for you,
loudly, for battering down the door of my fortress,
and for you, quietly
for taking my hand, for showing me
a different way to see.

Are you hungry, my friend?

a very thought provoking poem. epic in stanza with plenty of meat on the bones. i loved the word choice and flow. a fitting ending with a question for the soul.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you, CHL, for this lovely review. It makes my heart glad that you saw this one in the exact spirit in which it was written. If you look closely, you may see yourself there, in the words.