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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: A Letter to Myselfdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: saartha
    ASL Info:    27/F/US
    Elite Ratio:    4.03 - 230/390/136
    Words: 397
    Class/Type: Random Thoughts/Misc
    Total Views: 930
    Average Vote:    5.0000
    Bytes: 1873



    Description:
       I have read several of these 'dear Me' letters, and I think they're a good introspection tool. If anyone else has written one, please do link me to it.


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsA Letter to Myselfdots
    -------------------------------------------


    Dear me of various ages,

    I remember you throwing yourself against the wall, though this did not happen. I remember your teeth, like a cornered rat. It was all so senseless. There is no cage; you are your own captor. You are still your own captor.

    At some point you will break apart like a year-old seed. I will not say you have blossomed, but something inside slunk out, soft and shadowed. That is you now. Give up that idea of being able to contain something, of being 'full' or 'empty.' You are not a vessel. You are precisely what you are, whatever you may be. Whatever good or bad that will do you.

    Every morning it is as though you must re-gather your skeleton. You make up things, to have something to say. You do not fall in love. You are habitual and begin to realize everyone is the same, including yourself. You lose the ability to distinguish one face from another. At night your skeleton disassembles itself again.

    You learn not how to accept yourself, but rather that accepting or not accepting is equally worthless. You come to understand there is nothing worth doing. You become a person who thinks in millennia and it paralyzes you.

    On some level this stagnancy is soothing, all-encompassing. Change becomes a manifestation of staying the same. At night your skeleton stops falling apart. It stiffens into a spiraling tower and you eventually stop tearing it down in the morning. It grows and grows.

    At the top of the tower there might be a rat corpse, or a seed, or a soft dark thing. There might be nothing at all. You never climb it to find out. You shut your eyes and stop thinking.

    I have nothing to offer you.


    Me.




    Submitted on 2010-11-20 20:11:55     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

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    ||| Comments |||
      A couple of things.
    The poem is immediately thoughtful, facing itself:

    'I remember you throwing yourself against the wall, though this did not happen. I remember your teeth, like a cornered rat.'

    I think that's brilliant.

    Another thing, about this writing, about your writing. It's like the magnificence of running into someone thoughtful, though, nothing was said. And I think, when
    you watch the discovery channel or the history channel or find yourself flipping through the ancient almanac or read an excellent bit of crit or gander at a good bit of writing; it makes you immediately spend a moment in 700 offshoots of thought or immediately want to go away and do writing. And so, that's what I'd say about this bit of writing, and more generally, about your work.

    I guess what's interesting about this is that the tone is quite passionless. It makes me think- in terms of poetry: and in relation to another person, an other person: your body, warmed, but not by any passion, breath, ragged, only because it bore the weight of two.

    And to me, that's interesting because, for me, if you're looking at sex, you imagine that being a mutual thing; this poem sort of offers up that mood where you can see life from a totally different perspective.

    It then interests me
    that the towers seem like they play such an important role in this poem, because, for me, those parts seem like the saddest, for their ability to emote.

    Maybe it's that they don't
    emote. At the top of the tower is a rat or a seed or nothing, and anyway, you never go up their.

    I guess what I'm saying is that maybe the poem works on need systems. I don't need it to be a seed as much as I need you to go up there. I know it isn't a rat. So, it's fascinating i suppose, what I can make out of your poem simply because of the way I am geared up, and how there's this seeming interaction,
    meanwhile the narrator is passionless (and I don't mean that in a negative way, when I say 'you' when talking about a poem, I am generally speaking about the narrator).

    But when, you go into the

    'At some point you will break apart like a year-old seed. I will not say you have blossomed, but something inside slunk out, soft and shadowed. '

    part, I kind of hate you, and admire the narrator

    for saying that. So, yeah, it's kind of like the clanging of belief systems, one, beating its own chest (haha)

    and the other rattling, like a piece of old tin, or a piece of new tin, either of those, come loose in the wind.

    You have this: 'You become a person who thinks in millennia and it paralyzes you.'

    when, for about six months i couldn't buy a good line
    yet had so much i felt and needed to say, and looking back it was like my head and nose were at the furthermost point of that, my feet at the beginning -nothing all the way through.

    Sometimes I wonder at the worth of writing, down, sadness, being blunt or simply honest and jotting an actuality -as you have done, or seem to have done.

    Then I think back to that phrase and remember how it struck me, that first time, when I had not been able to articulate it or describe it, anything close to what I had been feeling. I read that and I thought, "Amen"

    or I was grateful or I wondered at the ability of the writer. All of those things, in their many(ed) variations.

    And technically, how this is story telling, where life speaks to life, I think- the way it's woven together, from the beginning and throughout. The rat, the tower, the seed etc etc. It's just very well done, except, I don't mean that as congratulation, more as a way of saying there is value in the hard work you appear to have gotten done. I don't know. Is it hard work for you? Would it be easier to watch tv and let life kick you? And then there are times when I find it fun, to imagine, kicking back.

    It's just coolness, too. Like if I was to go through and give a line by line crit of what I liked or what I thought you had done, you could quite easily be staring at a volume. Sure, I can be wordy, cumbersome in what I am trying to get out, that too, but the coolness of it is that it's loaded work.
    | Posted on 2012-03-16 00:00:00 | by Daniel Barlow | [ Reply to This ]
      As a writer I feel that all of our works are somewhat introspective with the qualifier that in hindsight most of my own works seem well beyond my own self-recognized abilities. Am I thereby merely guilty of being self-effacing to myself while believing that "humble is good", or is this evidence that either the subconscious surpasses any conscious awareness or that at least one angel/muse must exist somewhere?

    Perhaps though I am merely suffering illusions of grandeur in order to release a few endorphins from time to time? Yes, I must suspect this is the case, even in this case. Love is where you make it, what spins your head, the fire of joy.

    Your thoughts written to yourself are for the most part quite foreign to me but I respect them as being real in your own experience. Judge it by the (highly qualified, except of course for mine) comments it garners.
    | Posted on 2010-11-24 00:00:00 | by Blue Monk | [ Reply to This ]
      This is a bit of a scathing, coming-to-terms, isn't it?

    This brought up some really interesting thoughts in my brain that I'm not going to bother regurgitating because I'm not honestly sure I can without it coming up wrong, but I like how your wording and imagery is quite harrowing and unforgiving though the actual elements of the write are quite zen.

    And some old zen master once said to not think in terms of love or hate, that there is fault in that because it is pointless.

    Towards the end it also reads as a bit of a reprimand and what has been seething and practical gets a bit . . . more emotionally involved. Kind of like admitting to a failed experiment, and the experimenter being mad at the failed experiment, finally reaching that give-up point.

    I don't think that this is a good thing, but your write here nearly convinces me it's worth giving up.

    You have some amazing lines that hit right where they're going to make the most impact, and just the overall frame of the write is great.

    One nit-picky [censored]y thing. This bit here:
    "At some point you will break apart like a year-old seed. I will not say you have blossomed, but something inside slunk out, soft and shadowed. That is you now."
    seems awkwardly tensed and even more so against the usual order of things (can't blossom without germination) as it goes from a seed that "will break apart" to "have blossomed" to "that is you now". I think the simple fix would be to make it:

    "At some point you broke apart like a year-old seed. I will not say you blossomed, but something inside slunk out, soft and shadowed. That is you now.

    Small. But eh. Thanks for the great read (really -- are there any non-clichés left in this whole critiquing thing? I'm beginning to wonder . . . but I mean that "great read" with total sincerity).

    -Emeya
    | Posted on 2010-11-23 00:00:00 | by Lady of Shalott | [ Reply to This ]
      Hi there. I would appreciate it if you will read this. Luv Joachim. Mar 7:23 All these evil things come from within,.... All evil thoughts, words, and actions, take their rise from the inward parts of man; from his heart; which is sadly corrupted, and is the fountain from whence all these impure streams flow. And if these come from within, then not from without; they are not by imitation or are the mere effects of example in others: example may indeed, and often does, draw out the evil that is within; but it does not produce it there; if it was not there before, it could not draw it out from thence: and if all these evils come from within, then the inward part of man must be sinful and polluted, previous to the commission of these evil things; and from whence springs then that inward pollution? It is the fruit of original sin, of Adam's transgression; the consequence of which is, a corrupt nature, which is derived to all his posterity: for his nature being corrupted by sinning, and he having all human nature in him, the individuals of it could not be propagated by ordinary generation, without the pollution of sin cleaving to them; "who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean? not one", Job_14:4. Nor has there ever been any instance to the contrary, but the man Christ Jesus; whose human nature was holy, it not descending from Adam by ordinary generation; otherwise, all men, as David was, are "shapen in iniquity, and conceived in sin", Psa_51:5, and this is the source and spring of all sinful action, internal and external.

    And defile the man; both soul and body; all the powers and faculties of the soul, and all the members of the body; or "make a man common": these show him to be one of the common people, a very sinful man; as such were reckoned, and therefore are called emphatically, "sinners": and are joined with "publicans", who were esteemed the worst of sinners: from all which it appears, that sin in thought, word, and deed, is the defiling thing, and is what ought to be carefully avoided; and not meats, and the manner of eating them, provided moderation is used.
    | Posted on 2010-11-22 00:00:00 | by Joachim | [ Reply to This ]
      Bravo! You have hit where it hurts, even if it is an introspection tool. As you have put it
    "You are habitual and begin to realize everyone is the same, including yourself". Since this is your truth then everyone should be impacted by this letter making it powerful just by numbers. I like the final paragraph the most though, when you grow apathetic and uncaring and just let everything that built up stay there instead of trying to mold it everyday for everyone to see and that in itself is growing up. Not caring about the bones or what became of them or whats on the top... but living with the maturity of not caring if other people like it or not.
    | Posted on 2010-11-22 00:00:00 | by josymanthegreat | [ Reply to This ]
      "There is no cage; you are your own captor. "
    that line caught my attention and refused to let it go the whole rest of the poem.

    how very true is that. we limit ourselves; you can be this, but not that, that is too great for you. you can have him, oh but not that one, that one is far too good for you. you are broken and thats all youll ever be, you cant have joy or peace, you can only have what you have now. so we never grow. we dont believe we can grow. and we stay at the bottom of the stair case. never daring to climb it. but maybe theres light at the top, maybe theres joy and peace and life abundant.

    this was very well written.
    | Posted on 2010-11-21 00:00:00 | by Theophilus | [ Reply to This ]
      Man, I want to do this now. I've never really read anything quite like this.

    You words are amazing.

    "You are habitual and begin to realize everyone is the same, including yourself."

    I love universal truths. Yes, we are all the same. We all suffer the same trials, and sing the same joys.

    I sing to your joys, I feed them love. More joy than sorrow I wish upon you. I wish the same for myself too, for I am a man who has buried himself in catacombs of guilt.

    I am my own captor. :/

    -Fox
    | Posted on 2010-11-21 00:00:00 | by AsiaticFox | [ Reply to This ]
      You become a person who thinks in millennia and it paralyzes you.


    i was just going through that. trying to place myself and the importance of anything i may or > may not do.

    i and on another page i was trying to write about edges and one self losing it, moving over to the other, meeting himself and his un-achievement.

    i never really got what i wanted to say out, but this was really good.

    There is no cage; you are your own captor.

    really good.
    | Posted on 2010-11-20 00:00:00 | by Daniel Barlow | [ Reply to This ]


    Think Feedback more than Compliments :: [ Guidelines ]

    1. Be honest.
    2. Try not to give only compliments.
    3. How did it make you feel?
    4. Why did it make you feel that way?
    5. Which parts?
    6. What distracted from the piece?
    7. What was unclear?
    8. What does it remind you of?
    9. How could it be improved?
    10. What would you have done differently?
    11. What was your interpretation of it?
    12. Does it feel original?



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    Be kind, take a few minutes to review the hard work of others <3
    It means a lot to them, as it does to you.

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