Recurring Daymares (poem) by Julianza (Julie) Kim Shavin on AuthorsDen

Recurring Daymares
by Julianza (Julie) Kim Shavin → (All Poetry by Julianza (Julie) Kim Shavin)
Rated "G" by the Author.

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Self-Portrait of the Artist by Her Mother. Here's another flash poem. I have 10 poems in the works, but to avoid them I write flash poems, quickies --just to keep writing every day. I thought I saw Notepad somewhere on my puter, but can't find it now -- for pasting, then transfering as single-space. Help?

Recurring Daymares Perusing an old diary, I learned that, at 18, I felt dizzy in the surfeit of nature. I lived in the deep south, on a tremendous tangled turf of swirling scents and sights out in the middle of everywhere. I could not focus; there was so much to see. Blinded by excess, my eyes would flit from thing to thing, trying out a single bush, one small patch of tree trunk, a squirrel worrying a hickory nut. Once, to steady myself, I looked at my own hand. That, I could make out. Decades later: recurring dreams, about an indoors I don't know. The walls, ceilings, floors, are skewed planes coming at me menacingly, ceaselessly. I'm paralyzed -- no escape. Sometimes, I'm afraid to go to sleep. I don't sleep, but didn't realize the problem was geometry, physics. One evening, during that summer of 18, I asked my mother whether she ever had the sensation she could not focus, outdoors, elaborating on the puzzlement. She gave me a look. That look. I can still see her. She can't see me. copyright Julie K. Shavin 4 09

Reviewed by Jon Willey

Reviewed on April 25, 2009

parental intimidation can sometimes be a challenge to contend with --"trying out a single bush, one small patch of a tree trunk, a squirrel worrying a hickory nut" -- there now, that should easily erase the look, that look that mothers have and give so freely to control, intimidate -- you feel infinitely better now, don't you? -- a great piece of work Julianza -- peace and love my friend -- Jon Michael aka (YRM)

Reviewed by Regis Auffray

Reviewed on April 22, 2009

Yes. This is a great poem because it shares your soul. Love and best wishes,

Regis

Reviewed by Dawn Anderson

Reviewed on April 21, 2009

Occasionally I wonder, if I could, would I go back to my youth...the old expression, "If I knew what I know now," comes to mind. How I love your work!

Reviewed by Gene Williamson

Julie, I love the first two stanzas; had the feeling you were
happy when you wrote thes these lines:

tangled turf of swirling scents and sights
out in the middle of everywhere.

It was rare to get anything but a loving look from my mother;
perhaps because she was not as sophisticated as your mother.

Another damn good poem, with just enough pain to give it that
Shavin touch. -gene.

Reviewed by Dallas D'Angelo-Gary

Ah, yes ... the old writings. The seeds planted by fickle squirrels, digging up and replanting a dozen times. Go back to that youth? Not on your life. Nicely done, Julianza!

Reviewed by Mary Lacey Desertrat

Youth is so confusing and it doesn't get much better with time! You're still seeing your mother's "look" Every mother has a "look", I know mine did! Good luck on finding your stuff.

Mary