I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world,
to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

11 March 2016

Construction

















It wasn't an option whether to go or stay
(bodily). And so she sits
with her toys, or in the garden, pretending to play.
Secretly, she matches wits
with the adults around her, fits
herself into their inscrutable comedy
to all outward appearances, while her inner soul flits
easily away on the ether. She is building her own tragedy,
invisible to the naked eye
of the world or its denizens. They are not so smart
as she is – yet she will find a hard cost later. She will cry
then, from her old broken heart
for the soul that could only fly inwards. Now, no moan
nor sigh nor any sign must reveal the walls of stone.


Written for dVerse Meeting the Bar: Bouts Rimés Revisited, using the end words, in order:  stay, sits, play, wits, fits, comedy, flits, tragedy, eye, smart, cry, heart, moan, stone.


I chose to do a free verse sonnet – a contradiction in terms? That is, the 14 lines and the rhyme scheme are fixed; the line lengths are not and there is no metre.

The photo is of me and was taken by my Dad when I was four. It is my property and must not be copied or used in any way without my permission.

22 comments:

  1. Wow! This is masterful. The cost of building those inner walls, needed to survive (oh, how I know!), no outer sign to reveal the walls of stone. Trouble is, in my old age, the stone cracked and a lifetime's worth of tears has been wearing it away. Oy! Ouch, it hurts!

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    1. I didn't wait until old age – the walls 'broke down', as they say – but I had a lot of therapeutic help, and I'm glad of it.

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  2. Oh, I really like this, Rosemary! I think so many young people build their own tragedies invisible to the naked eye. Growing up definitely comes at a cost! But in this poem, I see also that SHE is a survivor!

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  3. Oh, how I can relate and my heart aches for all the children who have to build walls to survive. Good therapy and self-awareness can do wonders to help though. I'm still chipping away at it! Thank you, Rosemary, for joining in today.

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  4. Most children are very resilient, but you are so correct, surviving at what cost? What kind of person, spouse & parent will they become, & will they weather the crumbling walls? Nice work.

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  5. This breaks my heart as I've grieved from a similar space often. Thank you, for your poem, Rosemary.

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  6. Oh you are so right.. The world around cannot see those walls until it's too late to tear them down (and lots of pain). So well used words.

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  7. Insightful and true. I write free verse sonnets from time to time, though the innate rhythm of iambics usually manages to shine through.

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  8. It can be so hard, being a child, and you have conveyed that in this poem, particularly in the lines:
    'She will cry
    then, from her old broken heart
    for the soul that could only fly inwards. Now, no moan
    nor sigh nor any sign must reveal the walls of stone.'

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  9. This is such a heartfelt response to the bouts-rimes :D
    Beautifully penned.


    Lots of love,
    Sanaa

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  10. Oh oh you got it all in thus one. Made an excellent poem out the confinements laid down. Analogy for the life msde out of the childhood confinements laid down. As expressed so cleverly. Congrats.

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  11. I specially like this line: She is building her own tragedy,
    invisible to the naked eye

    How sad that at a young age she feels this way ~

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  12. Lived it. Living it.The line: 'she's building her own tragedy' - don't agree. I think I know you meant that as a grown up those walls would have to be breached somehow and a very dangerous thing to do too; as dangerous as the childhood was. But it was self defence. Maybe, for myself, I'll get a fold up ladder so I can dash back behind the wall when it's necessary for safety's sake. What you think?

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    1. It was self-defence. But a refuge can become a cage.

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  13. I recognise the childhood aspect of your words as I too built walls of survival. I think about the time of my mid-twenties I became strong within them and broke out, and I was/am happy within and without.
    Kind regards
    Anna :o]

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    1. In my case it was mid-twenties too, but the breakdown was the kind that needed psychiatric intervention – which I am forever glad of, as it was effective.

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  14. Walls keep the bad out, but they keep the good out, too, if we aren't careful. Walls need doors or gates, at least, I think. We weren't meant to go it alone. Very nice use of the given words.

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  15. The inward flight is impervious to stone. We become the cocoon to shield our beautifully hidden chrysalis! Thanks for sharing this butterfly, Rosemary!

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  16. no moan nor sigh nor any sign
    must reveal the walls of stone

    In matters of the heart one cries alone and suffers alone. Others need not know about it! Great lines Rosemary!

    Hank

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  17. I love this:
    "while her inner soul flits
    easily away on the ether. She is building her own tragedy"

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  18. I recognize those walls. Others saw the wall as stubbornness, but little did they know about the need to preserve and protect oneself. Yet after awhile, the walls that protect isolate and bring one loneliness.

    ~ Imelda

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  19. Inner and outer
    worlds oF human
    soUls.. concrete wAlls
    Of sMiles and nAils
    holDs heARt
    sPiNinG
    inner
    turmOil
    away from LiFe..:)

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