A few weeks ago, Susan Thomsen, at Chicken Spaghetti, posted a prompt: begin a poem with the last line (I stop somewhere waiting for you) of Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself."
Susan's take on the prompt is here, and her "Flurries of Winter" is an enchanting take, full of joy and verve and love and snow.
I went a different route, being the INFJ/Melancholic Eeyore that I am. 😏
I might've composed my response sooner if I hadn't tripped myself up by turning the prompt upside down. I'd gotten it fixed in my head that I should end the poem with the suggested line. I tried a number of different openings and approaches but none of them were working. Page after page of garbage. I decided to go reread Susan's post/prompt, thinking maybe I'd pick up some new inspiration.
"Oh!" I said to my upside-downed self. "I'm going to START the poem with that line." Well. Okay then. Let's try that.
I imagined being caught in a wretched kind of limbo with a friend or significant other or spouse — really anyone you're trying to have an authentic relationship with when you aren't getting anything in return. (I mean, truly ... we've all been there.) And then the poem wrote itself in twenty minutes.
The lesson here is to listen to Susan more closely the first time. But I think, in general, it's just good advice to listen to Susan.
Okay, here we go:
"I Stop Somewhere Waiting For You"
~ Walt Whitman, "Song of Myself"
I stop somewhere waiting for you.
I stop somewhere waiting for you.
Somewhere.
Waiting.
For you.
It’s exhausting, being mired
But I stop, somehow, waiting for you.
Waiting.
For you.
It’s exhausting, being mired
in this bog, slogging through
a swamp of unearned, unreturned
a swamp of unearned, unreturned
hope and promise.
I don’t really even know where I am.
“Somewhere”?
Who chooses to live there?
It feels like Wonderland,
and every bit as absurd.
You make me believe
six impossible things before breakfast
but by dinner time, I’m famished.
So I've decided.
I’m moving to a new anywhere.
I will learn its borders and boundaries as I go.
The plan is still fuzzy.
“Somewhere”?
Who chooses to live there?
It feels like Wonderland,
and every bit as absurd.
You make me believe
six impossible things before breakfast
but by dinner time, I’m famished.
So I've decided.
I’m moving to a new anywhere.
I will learn its borders and boundaries as I go.
The plan is still fuzzy.
But I stop, somehow, waiting for you.
~~~~~~~~~~
Visit her at Chicken Spaghetti and enjoy lots of poetic goodness.
27 comments:
Holy cannoli, Karen, that is such a gift of a poem. I have certainly been there with relationships like the one here. "I'm moving to a new anywhere"--I wish I'd written that!
Oh, Susan, that's such a lovely thing to say. I seem to find myself wishing I'd written everything you write, so I consider it high praise. Thanks! xo
The whole poem turns on, "But" at the end. I love it. How lovely to see your original work this week. More, please!
I like your "new anywhere" and even though "The plan is still fuzzy," you are going to "stop, somehow," what patience in the midst of all, thanks Karen!
Thanks so much, Anon, and thank you, too, Michelle!
Oooh! I LOVE it! Yes, we've all been there. give and give and then...at some point, how liberating to STOP. Thank you, Karen!! I'm also an INFJ (but wouldn't describe myself as Eeyore. Interesting!). xo
Hi, Irene! Well, I’m not *always* an Eeyore. ;) But I have my moments. (I actively work against my Eeyore tendencies … Poetry Friday is one of the things that buoys me into being more of silly old bear.) :D
I imagined a relationship, too, Karen, and now you've expanded it to show us all that things happen when finally the truth is out! I love "but by dinner time, I’m famished." Says it all!
I'm glad you turned yourself right side up -- fabulous poem! Yes, we've all been there. Thanks for articulating that feeling so perfectly.
My, oh my!!! What an amazing poem with a twist at the end that surprised and delighted. Bravo! You captured the emotion and frustration so well. Well done!
Wow, Karen! Fun poem with so much heart and soul and change! This, this:
"It’s exhausting, being mired
in this bog, slogging through
a swamp of unearned, unreturned
hope and promise."
Thank you for this!
Oh, Karen!!! We've all been there, haven't we, in that kind of relationship? LOVED your poem and your narrator who's moving on!!! LOVE the craft of how you play with the punctuation and spacing to twist the meaning in your very exciting poem! Bravo!
Holy moley, wow! I have been there. Thank you for this poetry gift.
Thank you, Karen. As others have said, we've all been there, ready to move on even if the plan is fuzzy. Nicely done!
Such wisdom, Karen. Would that I were so mature in my waiting-somewhere-anywhere-relationships.
Wow, Karen, just Wow! This is a relatable and beautiful poem. I'm so glad you took a second look at Susan's prompt because it gave the world THIS poem. Thank you for sharing!
Oh, thank you all so much! I really appreciate all your kind comments. ❤️ What a great prompt this one was to work with. I think even the failures that are sitting in my notebook, the ones in which I tried to end the poem with the prompt line, are something I'll go back to and tinker with at some point.
wonderful and sad, yet, hopeful. nice work.
Thanks, Diane!!
"six impossible things before breakfast
but by dinner time, I’m famished." What a precision incision into how we fall in early, spend all day hoping, and have finally to let go. LOVE.
Thanks so much, Heidi!
I agree about listening to Susan!
As for your poem, I ADORE the speaker's agency. Young ones need to read this poem and know that they don't have to stay stuck.
Thanks, Mary Lee! Oh, the things I wish young ones (including young me!) knew. :)
Dear Karen...oh how could I have missed wonderful words like this? Somehow I must have slipped off your list...but I'm signed back up now.💕
The sense of adventure I feel from these lines: "I will learn its borders and boundaries as I go. The plan is still fuzzy." fills me with joy. Yes please. In awe of your wonderful words!!
Alice, how sweet of you to stop by! Thank you! ❤️
Karen, I read and reread your poem so many times. It is precious and inspiring.
"But I stop, somehow, waiting for you."
"When you live fully in the world."
Oh, Carol, thank you so much! ❤️
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