It’s back!
Last June, I posted a draft of “The Lime-and-Tequila Love Song” as a revision exercise. The idea was to see what different poets would do with a single rough draft … and to give you an exercise in creativity and voice.
I was really excited about the response, so we’re back for another round.
Like last time, the task is to rewrite the draft according to your own style (and whatever flashes of inspiration you get in the process). Then post it in the comments.
The rules are the same as before: do not publish this poem elsewhere, unless it’s on your own website (or art forum profile) and you give credit and a link back to this post.
Other than that, creative freedom is yours.
Let’s get started!
Something new this time: I’m posting both the first draft, with only tiny edits (gulp!), along with a second that still needs revision. It’s embarrassing, but I hope it might give you the courage to be a little vulnerable yourself. 🙂
***
[untitled first draft]
What is it, when I look out through falling snow
and see — a past I cannot reach, a story
that has ended, a curtain fallen and I
standing in the aisle in the dimming auditorium wondering
where the light, the props, the costumes go. I left that life
for another I don’t understand. To guide me, a delusion
of what was, or perhaps a memory so swaddled in the pain
of nostalgia, it takes on a dark glow, like looking
through the bottom of a glass in a bar where the lights
have long gone out. It was life I longed for,
life I ran from. The quiet white of winter is vigor
and silence, and perhaps that’s why I stare out from the window
of my noisy inertia, longing, wondering. (Is there life
on earth?) Someone sent me a polar bear card with a smile,
no salutation. No one knows what to say anymore.
It’s winter, time to dream. There was a reason I once called
myself winter-dreams, I knew even then
where all my visions were born.
***
Ursa Major Wakes in January
What stirs, when staring out through whorls of snow
I glimpse memory sluicing past, stories ended and not begun,
a velvet curtain dropped and I standing in the aisle
of a dimming opera hall, wondering where the light,
the scenes, the costumes go? I left the hall for another
blurred and swaying. As guide, a double-vision of what was,
so swaddled in aching nostalgia it takes on the gloss
of a brown-glass bottom in a bar where the lights
died hours before.
It was life I longed for, life I ran from.
Now winter white is vigor and silence
as I dream behind finger-streaked windows, muttering,
My God, is there life in living?
Someone left a polar bear card with a smile,
no salutation. No one knows what to say anymore.
It’s January; I fold my hope and burrow in deep-dark to dream.
As a child I named myself winter. Even then
I knew where my visions were born.
***
So, what have you got?
Took me long enough! But I did it! <3 Both poems sent my mind reeling with nostalgia, I love love loved the image of the polar bear card, it's brilliant and really powerful. Thank you for doing this again!
[Glitter Dust]
My hands have lost
the ability to grasp.
Everything I called beautiful
has slipped
through the cracks
in the hardwood floor,
and so it stays
like the last note of the violins [my violin]
forever engraved
on royal purple seats.
I blame the cold
and the fear
of having to let go again
of something dear –
looking far into the clear night
I wonder how it happened,
how long ago has the curtain fallen
on these distant stars,
when did it all end in winter
and glitter dust.
The blank Christmas card
keeps smiling at me
for no other reason
than a comfort
someone couldn’t express –
maybe nobody knows
how to listen anymore,
let alone care –
maybe we can all be alive
without living.
Hope has taken the taste
of cheap Whiskey
and mouths of strangers,
there’s no more strength
left in my soul
for nostalgia.
It’s January
the ice splinter buried in my chest
is alive and vigorous, I can feel it
calling my name –
it’s time to run back
into the arms of silence
into the sure warmth
of dreams.
I love it! Oh my! Totally worth waiting for.
I love how you took certain phrases and turned them around…
“maybe we can all be alive
without living”
and
“the ice splinter buried in my chest
is alive and vigorous, I can feel it
calling my name –
it’s time to run back
into the arms of silence
into the sure warmth
of dreams”
Thank you for sharing this!