An Unleashing

I was writing a note to remind future me why this blog would show a wee hole between Dec 2018 and Jan 2019, when I noticed that said note—titles and quotes from writings I posted on my other blog (now gone) during the mentioned period—read a lot like a poem. Of course, I just could not resist the urge to share the moment with you, so here’s the frankensteined piece:

 

In darkness, I’ve found the brightest of all thrills.

I don’t fear
weight or time,
not while knowing
whatever may come
will bring more
of you and me.

Sun light is my favorite
food for flesh,
but my soul feasts best
on the dark of the moon.

I know nothing about clog dancing, Jon Snow.

I
spell words
(inked from living)
out of my (un)emptying
hollows.

Reclaiming
the ways that made me
makes me more.

I kissed Imagination on the mouth,
freed my beast into storied meadows, trusted
my heart to brew fresh life out of deadly sap.

Journaling
in wild ink, my soul shall be
deeply cleansed.

Want to feel me, luv,
truly fill my deep and wild?
tale me and poem.

Stuck
between chest and skull,
unspoken words rot.

 

blacked out (and stitched) from the last two stanzas
of Mary Oliver’s “At Black River”

 

a bit more
– the last stanza and the blackout made it into the piece because of Susie’s prompt, “Why do you write poetry?”, which refuses to leave my skull.
– I’m deleting my Blogger blog. I’ve kept it as backup, since it was my 1st blog ever. But it’s time to let go. If this blog runs into trouble again, I will kick that bridge when I get to it.
– linked to Poets United.

 

67 thoughts on “An Unleashing”

  1. What is telepathy! Whether I believe or not is besides the point. But what I know yesterday evening I took out my notebook and pencil, and wrote furiously about Why I Write Poetry. It wasn’t from a prompt or anything like that, but a sudden provocation by a painful and confusing experience I’m going through at present.

    What am I saying? Your poetry, your words seem to always find and meet me exactly where I am. And “Don’t think I’m not afraid”. I’ve got goosebumps!

  2. This is some of your best, Magaly. I m so happy for you, that your muse holds up her head and continues beside you through everything. Every line here speaks from heart to heart, mind to mind for me. The second stanza in particular is exquisite.

    • Thank you so much, Hedge. I, too, I’m glad the Muse hasn’t asked for time off. I was sure she was going to run for the hills when my fingernails started to do unspeakable things that hurt like the dickens when I’m typing. But nope, she’s a stubborn one… and her stubbornness is my best source of healthy distraction.

      I am so glad you like this stitched bit.

  3. This strange winter… That in-between, floating, not-quite-here-or-there feeling makes for lovely words. And I’ve always loved your words.

  4. I like this idea of finding a poem in poems already written in summation of a year’s thoughts arranged in a lovely stream of consciousness.

  5. I must be the only one who hasn’t heard of Mary Oliver… I had to look up Black River, and yours alone amazes me even if I hadn’t looked at hers… Her poems are profound and deeply touching.

    • That’s exactly how I felt about Leonard Cohen. It was as if everybody but me had heard of him and was in love with his work. Once I experienced it, I was hooked. It’s nice to get this sort of surprises. I suspect you’ll love Mary Oliver’s work, especially her focus on nature.

  6. These fit together so perfectly, filled with a triumphant spirit unashamed to claim what it loves for itself. Stunner of a piece.

  7. Some wonderful thoughts – but where do I start? I guess I will just say that the image that stands out strongest for me is sun light being the favorite food of the flesh. Agreed. Sunlight has a restorative power, I think, which cannot be denied or taken for granted. I enjoyed how you connected all of the thoughts to make one nicely completed poem.

    • We end up incomplete when we ignore (or take for granted) the light or the dark. The light feeds us and the light gives us time to digest. I think that things start going wrong, when we deny part of the process.

  8. This is amazing, with the last poem shifting a period at the end to a spotlight blazing outward. I am thankful for the poetry that reminds my spirit to stand as well as kneel. 🙂

    • And I am right there with you! We must stand and fight, when the battle is on… But, every now and again, we must kneel–to let the soil feed our flesh and bones, to get closer to She (who shelters and feeds us), to get to a place where we let our soul remember who we are.

  9. Your words and your energy never cease to amaze me…
    and one day you will be clog dancing (but do it when the neighbors are out)

  10. Oooh this is nothing short of a feast, Magaly! ❤️ I love, love, love ‘Journaling in wild ink,’ we poets and writers have a knack for wielding magic with words and thus cleansing the environment and our souls. Happiest Sunday to you and yours! 😍😍😍

  11. Your unleashing is awesome, Magaly, especially since it frankensteined out of your note to your future self. I love the thought of bright thrills in darkness, which gives me hope, and the incorporation of the lines (which I already loved):
    ‘Sun light is my favorite
    food for flesh,
    but my soul feasts best
    on the dark of the moon’
    and
    ‘I kissed Imagination on the mouth,
    freed my beast into storied meadows, trusted
    my heart to brew fresh life out of deadly sap.’
    Don’t stop journaling in wild ink, queen of the black-outs!
    Who is Jon Snow? Surely not the English journalist and presenter of Channel 4 News?

    • Hope is so good… especially when shared.

      The Jon Snow reference is combination of Rommy’s first prompt (clog dancing) and Game of Thrones. Like I said to someone else about the same line, a comedian I am not. 😀

  12. I love this “the frankensteined piece”! I imagine it scratched bit by bit in “the dark of the moon.’ Please, please kiss imagination as often as possible while you grow and caress the hollows!

  13. Wonderful- all of it. Especially struck by:

    I kissed Imagination on the mouth,
    freed my beast into storied meadows, trusted
    my heart to brew fresh life out of deadly sap.

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