The lights in her house are always dimmed
Except for a sole candle
She keeps burning on her desk
Into the wee hours of the night
Slowly it will burn out
As the twilight looms
Over the captivity of lost stars
And murky dreams
Sometimes she sits and stares into it for hours
Mesmerized by the depth of its glaring emptiness
From its faint glimmer of warmth
She finds the will to scribe a poem or two:
It is her passage into a world of unrealized tomorrows
It is her salvation as well as her escape
From the proviso of her shape and being
Tormented by demons
She is unable to see
She’s really surrounded by angels
Not allowing them to reveal their wings
For in her heart she’s not the worth the time or effort
To forgive herself
For she missed the chance
To protect what she loved
And now she lives in a memory
Of what may have been
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Reviews of "Wounded Soul"
Reviewed by Amira van Kerk (Reader)
Reviewed on August 12, 2006
Sad and touching words.
Amira
Reviewed by Kate Clifford (Reader)
Reviewed on August 2, 2006
There has been times in my life when I have been the sadness you describe here. How wonderful that life continues on and creates changes so we can become happier :-)
Reviewed by Malcolm Watts (Reader)
Reviewed on July 31, 2006
Great piece. I think we all know someone who this poem describes. Malcolm
Awesome poem that has touched my heart. I feel for this woman as she has let her loss overtake her soul.
Once again you have showed us the imagery and deepness that you're all about.
Andy is right, Two characters come to mind, Mrs Haversham, from the classic, Great Expectations, and Eleanor Rigby, That awful song the Beatles wrote about...
I think Dickens had a purpose for writing that classic, as you have Jude, as did the beatles.... Don't let yourself fall into that pit of self damnation, one really dosent need to in reality.
Such melancholy surely brings a person down to naught.
Thanks for this powerful reminder.
God bless
Ch'erie
This makes me think of the peculiarity of that thing we call "time" and our perceptions of it, somehow. We can live in the skeletal past when actually the glowing present is healthily all around us. In that sense WE are in control of how we apportion past, present and future. I think it is your use of tenses that throws me into these kinds of thoughts... I think you often operate in a continuous present, where temporal boundaries are merged and often paradoxical. It seems to me that this Wounded Soul is yet sorrounded by the living possibilities of a healing present and that, if she could but see it, all is not lost. It is your phrase "unrealized tomorrows" that sets me off on this train of thinkin: unrealized in the sense of "without having already been fulfilled" or unrealized in the sense that she is yet unaware of the potential that her tomorrows hold? I think this is why I love your work so much... it leads my mind to wander and enter into all sorts of mental and artistic geometry. As Sage spoke of yesterday, you are a RunewRiter. But this is an endearing piece of narrative observation observed and recorded by an empathetic soul. And yes... I guess things might be very different if we were actually to give our sorrounding angels a bit of space... they might actually be able to lift us up and bear us away sometimes!! :)) Touching, Jude, thank you. LOL Kate xx
have so much to say I can't seem to say anything, so I'll save comment for later. blowing out the candle to wish you many more poems and much joy in the year to come, Dawn
There is a melancholy sometimes inherited from broken dreams.
In my own experiences, at times, the insights after the failures, or, if you will, those valiant attempts, are sometimes more profound than the blossoms allow in the fields of succeeding.
Poets, writers, artists, all those driven to manifest the unseen in a tangible way that will bless others, must suffer and, at times, feel worthless!
It is part of the calling and the least understood.
Oh my
I wonder if this is more rampant in creative personalities.....they say, they live on the edge of rationality......
but since I am creative.......I would not know lol
"If only's" are regressive for is mortals and your verse lets us see the private life of someone who punes to indo love. This is a sad read for me as well. It brings back memorie.
This is beautiful.
Susan
Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader)
Reviewed on July 27, 2006
And now she lives in a memory
Of what may have been <---------------Tormemt of the damned.
Very powerful message here for those who still have time.
A Dickens message.....
Stunning write here Robert and the imagery so crisp I can see the shadows cast by that candle as well as hear the clock ticking away the minutes as she pines in the gloom of her broken soul. Very good my friend.
Fee
Reviewed by Vesna Perkovic (Reader)
Reviewed on July 27, 2006
This is too close to home..I'm still trembling..
profound insight..
You are brilliant Jude..
you have outdone yourself..AGAIN!
Vesna:)
ps saved this one..
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on July 27, 2006
Supberb poetical literties herein this poem of despair and woe. Poeish, even. You struck the mood, nutured it as the candle of her misery slowly extinguished itself.
Sometimes we have to ask ourselves if we tried hard enough or quit before the Big Miracle. The character in this poem Wounded Soul has turned the ponies out to pasture. For those who have not reached their goals and dreams after 500 miles, go 501 miles. It is that extra mile that will free one of captivity and a harbinger of light will brighten the house again. Most of the time, people are their own worst enemy and demon, and torment themselves with self-doubt and negativity. With this said, if Sacajawea hadn't retrieved the valuable goods such as medicines, books, and food supplies, protecting what she loved when the canoe turned over and her husband Charbonneau hadn't been such a pain in the ass to help retrieve the goods, she would not have made it on the Sacajawea dollar coin. Like in my poem posted in my den, Lavendar Outlaw: Wanted Dead or Alive, you have to be famous to have made it on a woman's coin. Self-doubt drowns in the murky waters, Hope floats!
Oh Jude, you boggle my mind sometimes with these incredible depths you travel to........the torment came from missing her chance, to protect what she loved.......but the love was not returned...or else he, would have protected, her.
We share Native American blood...can you tell? LOL Seriously, my great-grandmother was a full-blooded Delaware, which is really Lenapi-Lenape, and she lived to be 102.
I greatly admire your work...I'd say you're of......CHIEF STATUS!
"She is unable to see
She’s really surrounded by angels
Not allowing them to reveal their wings..."
Beautiful, compassionate poem Jude! May eyes of pain open to embrace the Light of "unrealized tomorrows"!
Love, Suzie
How very sad. I'm in such a restless mood tonight, I feel a kinship with this heartbroken character. Your abiity to reach us where we live Jude. I hope if you know this person you can help her to realize no one is worthless. Superb poem!
Reviewed by Martin Hebert (Reader)
Reviewed on July 26, 2006
~~Robert~~beautiful poem..leaves me feeling a little sad and alone~~
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Amira
Ron
:)
Divinity
Regis
Once again you have showed us the imagery and deepness that you're all about.
~hugs~
Karen
Love and Peace, B&R
I think Dickens had a purpose for writing that classic, as you have Jude, as did the beatles.... Don't let yourself fall into that pit of self damnation, one really dosent need to in reality.
Such melancholy surely brings a person down to naught.
Thanks for this powerful reminder.
God bless
Ch'erie
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. :(
This cuts to the bone..
But sometimes that is needed ..
Peter
Rebecca
In my own experiences, at times, the insights after the failures, or, if you will, those valiant attempts, are sometimes more profound than the blossoms allow in the fields of succeeding.
Poets, writers, artists, all those driven to manifest the unseen in a tangible way that will bless others, must suffer and, at times, feel worthless!
It is part of the calling and the least understood.
Richard Lloyd Cederberg
I wonder if this is more rampant in creative personalities.....they say, they live on the edge of rationality......
but since I am creative.......I would not know lol
no kidding........loved this.......pax A
This is beautiful.
Susan
Of what may have been <---------------Tormemt of the damned.
Very powerful message here for those who still have time.
A Dickens message.....
HAPPY B E L A T E D birthday..whaaaaaaaahahahaha
Only ME!!
Love Tinka
Fee
profound insight..
You are brilliant Jude..
you have outdone yourself..AGAIN!
Vesna:)
ps saved this one..
You excel again.
Happy Birthday, Robert...many, many more.
Elizabeth
Sage
We share Native American blood...can you tell? LOL Seriously, my great-grandmother was a full-blooded Delaware, which is really Lenapi-Lenape, and she lived to be 102.
I greatly admire your work...I'd say you're of......CHIEF STATUS!
Love, Rhonda
She’s really surrounded by angels
Not allowing them to reveal their wings..."
Beautiful, compassionate poem Jude! May eyes of pain open to embrace the Light of "unrealized tomorrows"!
Love, Suzie
~~martin~~