She raced through the night,
beat the sun to the morning
and now waits for it to catch up.
She rustles about
sorting random thoughts
like a drawer of unmatched socks.
Some are dark and tattered
and no two make a pair.
Something about that
reminds her of romance.
Each passing car
is a note in a chord
Brakes whine because
they are thin
and have pressed beyond
their recommended life span.
That's her love… used,
stopped too often
and needlessly hard.
The shell around her heart
is thin and the insides
have been refrigerated
a bit too long.
She cracks the morning
like a hard-boiled egg
left over from Easter Sunday.
It is there.
She might as well use it.
hmmm....normally I really don't appreciate the kind of images that you bring into use in this poem, but I think that your style and your way of relating them back to the protagonist is beautiful! You are an exceptionally gifted writer!
I really can't come up with much to say to make this better. This is a great write, one of those amazing poems that you can dive deeper and deeper into, and still find new meanings.
This is a marvelous write that takes one thru a journey in Life I really liked the way you worded this I especially liked the hard boiled egg line and its referrence to Easter Very Well written Chrystine And I am leaving for Socal in 2 hours However I will be moving back to Jersey within 2 or 3 months I have found my mind and Spirit are much more comfortable in New Jersey And Also Please let me know of your next reading I swear to you I would really like to hear you read Your poems are strong and I can only imagine how they would sink in in person God Bless Ron
Wow, you have certainly created a senario of lonliness and isolastion here. she runs from what she needs and wonders why she is cold and alone, tired from not loving herself, not taking care of herself emotionally. You have to go through the cold of the morning to feel the warmth of the sun in a day. Very intense and powerful writing. I loved this. Everything was perfect. This is a definate fav for me.
Oooo...yeah, that pre-dawn part of the day is a bit chilly...brrrrrrrrrr!
This was very entertaining Chrystine. The socks, the brakes the eggs. I liked how you tied them in and made them relatable to the thoughts. Oh, the brakes...they can often have plenty of pad left in em, but can sometimes squeal if they are dirty or dusty. Hee-hee!
Hi Chrystine , I hope your day dawns bright and warm today. I found much to love here in your poem. I liked especially the way you threaded the disconnected random thoughts on a strong sinew of longing and melancholy, —because when we are discontented in life, there is that malaise that tints everything, every moment, and thoughts eventually wind up the same color-just as in your poem.I guess what I am saying is that I can well relate to this state of mind, and admire that you seize each of these disparate thoughts and form them into a cohesive poignant picture.
I liked the comparison of sorting socks to matching up a love interest or relationship. Sometimes it seems surreal that with so many socks, one cannot find a single pair doesn't it?You say simply . "Something about that reminds her of romance."-in other words 'Love is like that-", and I found in that wry observation both humor and bittersweet truth.
Similarly, the comparison of vehicle brakes to your experiences in love- shows that same humor, but is little heavier, stronger, because it becomes apparent that your feelings ( the sinew that binds all together) are deep and serious, unlike the simple images you are projecting. I have a few tweaks for that stanza to suggest, as to me it didn't have qite the finesse of the strophes that came before and after. Consider something like,
""Brakes whine because they are too thin having been pressed beyond their recommended life span. That's her love… overused, in too-frequent stops and appliedneedlessly hard."
I loved the final stanza and the egg imagery. Eggs are a part of morning routines, and liek dawn itself symbolize a new start, or rebirth. The shell suggests confinement or set in one's ways and the "breaking" out simile shows hope and possibilities, yet you contain . limit that optimism with a cynical smile. ""It is there. She might as well use it"
Those words struck me as so sad, for the woman doesn't view this cold pre-dawn with any hope that things might be different. She seems trapped within that shell, and these words seem to me to underline the stark loneliness of a life without love. She has met another dawn, another day, so might as well get through it- how bleak an existence! Then will follow another night, and another dawn,
"Winter pre-dawns are often cold."
These last 2 lines sum up the whole mood and have the effect of a door slamming. Simple, but powerful because you have carefully built up that depressed mood of ennui and isolation. In winter those pre-dawn hours are darker and it seems all theworld is black and grey and white ( if you have any snow). I have been rising well before dawn for months now, and writing down thoughts in those hours,-marking the tiny advances of the dawn, and the subsequent effects on the landscape,-both without and within my heart. Reading this was like coming home. Perhaps I'll light a fire. Thanks for this one Sally