...'pon a midnight dark and drear...' Several years ago, an aunt on my father's side informed me that a paternal grandmother had been a Poe. "Related to Edgar Allen, thought you knew." Aha. I thought That explains it. ~~ An oft-emoted Shakespeare quote has also made its way through the swamp that represents
my min--. . .Drat and damnation! It's gone!! E v e r y one knows the passage. Gist is that "humans are but shadows in the night. . .?dark? Someone help me out! ~~ Bottom line for now: dress warmly for this one. Keep a flashlight handy. ~~ Should anyone wonder where the poem came from, consider that a healed scar only appears to vanish. Shine a light, a livid line or mottled, bruised-looking area surfaces. Better analogy may be the tenderness that remains decades after surgery. All have our sore spots and can't resist prodding (take the proverbial sore tooth). Hard to explain, but I'd like to venture a guess. Pain is universal, but the pain that accumulates in the corners of our minds and hearts is ours alone. Just as each of us differs, so does the pain. Who does not want to hang on to the small part of the self that is unlike any other? Especially now, when individual rights and peccadilloes are almost cotinuously under fire. Not all of us want to be clones, do we. Yes, an individual's thoughts and emotions have a way of getting out of hand. Emotional forest dries, fire ignites and spreads. Thing is, there are fires that need to burn. Swoop in with chemicals, prepare to pay. So. We do our best to come to terms. Unless we are masochists, probe lightly and infrequently. Okay, when bad things happen, they knock us out of the driver's seat. . .you must be sick of my bull. Poem is a poem? Peace, Freedom, and OEO, Don't take any wooden dollars. 'Pea'<3
A dog howls in the night.
If you are locked out young, if you are locked out often, if you are locked out long, you hear every howl except your own. Howl your throat numb, hear only the poor dog. Clawing the dark. Dark yard, dark fence, dark walk, and back.. Winter spring summer fall stay frozen to a strip of dark where a door stops, teeth gritted to not whine for the yellow to show that means the next sound to strain for is the scrape of drunken curses fumbling with chain has to be forced to unlock. Dog-like, you wait for scrape rattle, plop, ?, shuffle, shhh? to go on inside. Door opens, won’t be safe, but sleep sound. Thaw a little.
Dog is not going to stop. Next a train going nowhere is going to groan across a field. Engine huff as wheels clack locked out locked out locked out. All together now, whistle, howl groan chuffchuffchuff locked out locked out locked out chuff chuffchuff grrrrrooooooooo
Say dogs hear sounds humans do not. Not true for those who’ve been treated like some treat a dog.
H o w l .
(c) Phyllis Jean Green, 2005
{May be copied for individual, private use; forwards and site publication not permitted. Contact the author if you would like more information.)
Thnx Phyllis, this piece, from beginning to end, sounds an awful like...no...IS...my life in a nutshell. I have been howling all of my life, but the only ones to hear the sadness in that howl, have been my family and friends here at AD. Even my own Transsexual community cannot hear the sad howls, that we say each and every moment of each and every day of our lives. That is very sad. I get terrified of the night, and cannot sleep, until my eyes can no longer stay open, and I fall into a very fitful sleep. There are times when I am so scared to sleep, that I try to find other things to do. High Frequency is the story of hurt, of pain, of loneliness, of depression, and so on. My life also differes greatly from most of the transsexual community, because of my being forced to endure 5 1/2 years of intense sadnees, by being abandoned by my mother, the one person who should have tried to understand what I needed, and should have been there for me, but was not. The nova sized hole that is the core of my soul, will never be filled. The scars of humiliation and abandonment, will never heal. My life reminds me of the Bellamy Brothers song, "Some Broken Hearts"....
"Some broken hearts never mend,
Some memories never end,
Some tears will never dry,
My love for you will never die."
Even tho my mother abandoned me, and caused me much sadness and depression, and made me cry for 5 1/2 years, I still love her, even after all these years of her being gone from us. I am also proud that people tell me I look exactly like her. But my broken heart will never heal, my tortured memories will never end, and even tho I still love her, my sad and lonely tears will never dry.
This piece is right on Phyllis, and I only wish that others would stop judging me by my cover alone, and get to know this gentle soul, that is the girl I have always been. Thnx for sharing sis.
May the Lord Jesus bless you, and those whom you love, and be with you always, and at your side constantly. With much love in my heart, stubborn to a fault, joy to the world, peace on earth, & ((((((((((MANY WONDERFUL SISTERLY HUGGGGSSSS)))))))))), your still sad and very terrified little sister, Barbie
"If I have to be this girl in me, Then I may as well be."
HIGH FREQUENCY indeed. An intense and deep-cutting write that gives voice to the soul of bleeding itself. Not all can confront the nature and power of pain as done here but you have done so quite masterfully both as a poet and as an evolved human spiritual being. Thank you for "howling" with such melodious unruly truth and beauty.
Best treat everyone right, unless the masochistic desire is incisors embedded bad to the bone. I hear you, Pea Green ... my silver dog whistle is hanging around my neck dangling from a rhinestone costume jewelry Sage-strung necklace. Hear my High Frequency? Blowing in the wind .... the answer my friend, is blowing in the wind~~Bob Dylan. Gonna listen to some old train songs, Pea. Didn't Johnny Cash have one? Me an' you an' a dog named Boo and Mr. Bojangles I hear too.
TRUE STORY. Bella survived an abusive powerbroker father with organized crime ties, a drug-addicted mother and a physically/sexually abusive brother. Shocking & inspirational. When she couldn't cry, she tattooed a crying angel to cry for her.
Jamie was a healthy, active 12-year old who loved to skate and played hockey as well as any boy. Then one afternoon during a game, she suffered a stroke that changed her world. Her memoir takes the reader through her ordeal and her journey out of the
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Carmen :-)
Your use of imagery is excellent. The howling is piercing and the chill rattles my bones.
"Some broken hearts never mend,
Some memories never end,
Some tears will never dry,
My love for you will never die."
Even tho my mother abandoned me, and caused me much sadness and depression, and made me cry for 5 1/2 years, I still love her, even after all these years of her being gone from us. I am also proud that people tell me I look exactly like her. But my broken heart will never heal, my tortured memories will never end, and even tho I still love her, my sad and lonely tears will never dry.
This piece is right on Phyllis, and I only wish that others would stop judging me by my cover alone, and get to know this gentle soul, that is the girl I have always been. Thnx for sharing sis.
May the Lord Jesus bless you, and those whom you love, and be with you always, and at your side constantly. With much love in my heart, stubborn to a fault, joy to the world, peace on earth, & ((((((((((MANY WONDERFUL SISTERLY HUGGGGSSSS)))))))))), your still sad and very terrified little sister, Barbie
"If I have to be this girl in me, Then I may as well be."
Well expressed poetry Pea!!
Love Tinka
~Linda
Sadly true, Phyllis, and this is quite a powerful piece.
I know you dug deep down for this one, my friend. Exceptional piece.
Hugs n stuff,
Tami
Felix
Sage and Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds
Sage