the bagpack is heavy.
the bagpack feels heavier, a thought steals the light
"my woes drag us down" it whispers at night
they say you aren't heavy, they say you aren't pain
but i see the effort, the strain and the gain
to carry someone who feels like a stone
to hold a hand that lives to be lone.
i, a wilting vine that twines too tight
who saps the sun and dims your light
you search for a flower, a reason to stay
but find only sand, slipping all the reasons away.
each social tether, a pull on the soul
yearning for respite to make oneself whole
is isolation an answer to flight from a fray?
do problems left silent simply melt away?
@suu1309
beautiful
@Heather225 thank youu so much friend.🩷
@suu1309 that's really sad 😢 but so beautifully written 💗 there is magic in your words💗 gives you a giant tiny hug 💗
@Tinywhisper11 *receives the hug happily and smiles at her best*. thank you soo much<3
@suu1309 💖💖
@suu1309
Your poem is very melancholic and elicits a slow creeping sadness in the reader. The tight rhyming couplets you have employed give the poem a steady beat, like trudged weary steps, really setting off the metaphor of the backpack of woes that you set up from the start.
I thought the highlighting of the disconnect between internal experience and external perceptions was done very nicely. It came across with a sense of self doubt and vulnerability rather than a more blatant rejection/confrontation. The line about the wilting vine was incredibly sad, as it seems to voice an all too common fear that ones own desperate need ends up being the source of further pain. We cling too tight and strangle what we hoped to hold on to.
The final stanza is very effective; keeping it to just a single couplet ends the poem so abruptly and draws focus to the existential questions you raise. The questions seem rhetoric, and from the tone of the poem feel like a lonely attempt to convince oneself that withdrawing and staying silent is really an answer rather than a state one falls into out of doubt and hurt.
It was very sad to read, but I am glad you shared it with us all.
@BastionKnight i can not put it into words how deeply blessed i feel to see you resonate with and understand my words. no truer blessing for a poet than to see her seemingly creepy and agonizing thoughts be understood. yes self doubt crept in me while writing this. the feeling that i can never be enough to anyone and all those nuisance thoughts. having seen in life how everytime every single confrontation gave me none but guilt, i embraced silence. i am heavily moved by your words, by your appreciation, thank you. thank you for making me feel seen, thank you for making me feel heard. i adore you.
@suu1309
*Smiles kindly*
It was my pleasure.
@suu1309
They gather together, they swarm like dull drones
Their sensors misfire, they misname it 'alone'
I can't blame them all, would I be the same?
If nothing was there, as solitude rains?
But thunder it does, and lava and ash
And music unspeakable, Sensory Gash
Rips through me as all days gather as one.
On my own, play with lightning... I'm having fun
Shed 10 songs today all brilliant and new
Poems emanate freely for my new friend Suu
Drones gather like yipee!... identical view
Stuck being them, what the *** would I do?
@RedWell aahhhhhh!! do you even realise how overwhelmed and amazed and absolutely awed this beautiful poem made me feel. truth be told, i tried to reply back with a poem, but oh gosh, your poetry made me lost at words, and the helpless me can't help but just admire it's beauty. you are poetry personified, for real. thank you so much buddy<3
Don’t call me buddy. You don’t like the word friend. Closer to collaborator .. but not quite that cold. Collabrus will do. I know it’s not a word, it’s a word now.
The Lark Ascending Ralph Vaughn Williams Neville original recording World War I era … look it up, just the length of a good long shower on the future morning that you just don’t want to *** go, but it’s time, and you have someone you genuinely like to be fire and light for.
@FernsAndFirelight
Now gather yourself, vow to start with the riskiest word (whenever it comes to you, never forced); but it must be the riskiest one with the shivering potential or you will be at odds with yourself and go nowhere, and respond with a better poem than mine. you made my eyes knavish and tricksy, i made you fracture your name. Miracles do happen. Because you can.