Where do you hide? How do you hide? What are you hiding?
phree posted the poem "One Train May Hide Another" here and it got me thinking. The same day, I came across the book Where Men Hide while browsing the discard shelves of the local library. The book has chapters of pictures and discussion of iconic places where the author says men hide including the deer camp, the snuggery, the garage, the dugout, strip clubs, the office, the workshop and also "hiding in plain sight."
While you may not agree with the book at all, the notion of hiding seemed like a poetry prompt, especially since one train may hide another. Women hide too in many ways... which I will explore over the week. Maybe djw, phree, JakobVirgil, humanodon, rezzeJ, and anyone else will be interested in participating. Maybe not.
I hide another self, a quieter self, a better self A sadder self, maybe -- though I give myself a run for my money I hide uniqueness and interests, sickness and sweat And righteous passion and pitiful sorrow, and everything between I hide in plain sight, in plain skin, plainclothes matching a plain face Nothing I say is truly real, is really true, and I hope they know that I want to shout at them not to take me seriously but -- They take me oh so seriously, always, and I think it's too late I have hidden for so long that maybe it no longer matters why That's the wrong question to ask (but there aren't any right ones) ----- Written in the submission box because I'm extremely overworked tonight :p (it may possibly show)
Would never see the light of day otherwise, I think.
I keep coming back to your startling poem
wondering what "it" is: both of these images shed light on "it"...but the light is blinding.
Could you possibly add a title which gives "it" away? Would "The Truth" be a possible title?It hides in what is hidden to mask
its own hiding and in the sunlight of epiphany it shines
brightly and slips away before the spots can clear our eyes
I've had that sunlight of epiphany and know how it dazzles -- about as brightly as The long snake of firecrackers, exploding as doubt.
Thanks for reading. I always have trouble with titles, but I am thinking about it. I don't know if it is The Truth though, or if it's really a kind of . . . suspicion (at the other end of the scale from paranoia) that there's something else, that there's something more to whatever Truth it is that can be found. I'm not sure what 'it' is at the moment, but I'm chewing on it. If I get a title as I re-work it, I'll post the title here.
If I get a title as I re-work it, I'll post the title here.
Please do. I'm glad to hear that you're not 100% sure what "it" is... probably because "it" whatever it is, is hiding and won't let us see. I'll have to post my hiding poem -- but it's hiding from me... for the moment.
I think part of the strength of this piece is its brevity, which certainly suits it for being posted within a commenting system. I like the simplicity despite the fact that a big statement is actually being made about the nature of life. That's no small concept. Do you mind a friendly critique/suggestion? I wonder if the last line is implied by the one that comes before it (as well as the context of the rest of the poem), and if the poem would be missing anything if it were left out. I'm going back and forth on whether "I didn't want my mother's life" could stand as an ending on its own. If not, would it be interesting to end on an action instead of a statement? Another small example of what a mother's life consists of? "I didn't want my mother's life / of washing dishes until my hands go raw" or something along those lines, maybe (quick example off the top of my head). Hope you don't mind the suggestion; I just wanted to chime in.
Thanks! Yeah, maybe I'd change wiping to tending... I was thinking about djw's ideas, and going over it in my head off on and on yesterday, and couldn't quite make the change. It might make it better, but it also changed it into a different poem. And this was the one in me. Though, I don't write poetry and never studied it, so I was afraid it might come off a bit limerick-ish :)
'Second Guess' I sense you.
Stifled by repression
Hidden
But over-obsession threatens through
Hindsight and prediction
Inner confliction
Beckons you
When exposed to the unknown
You attempt to arise
And as I try and pry the grasp you have inside
I wonder whether you’re ever going to subside
Are you just part of me or some separate entity?
Meticulously analysing every possibility
It’s a stark contrast to the past where
decisions were made fast without your fragility.
You’re overgrown, unwanted
The weed whose seed
Is too deeply sown
To simply curtail
If your reason for existence is to offer resistance
Then I refuse to bow at your insistence.
Persistence is your key, but honestly
I’m in control.
wrenauld wrote me that he had trouble posting a response to you. He sent it to me to see if I have better luck. thenewgreen told me there were some bugskys to work out so that might be part of the problem. Here is wrenauld's response to you: hey rezzeJ, your poem really resonates with me. Anxiety!!! Raaahh!!! It seems like I may be working with some similar issues. Anyway, wonderful poem. Though it's partially cliche to say, it does feel good knowing that "I'm not alone" - to know that my issues are not WHOLLY particular, but actually experienced by in some sliver of resemblance, by others : ) P.S. A month back I commented on a post, trying to articulate some of my anxieties. Here it is, in case you're curious: http://hubski.com/pub?id=69711It’s a stark contrast to the past where
decisions were made fast without your fragility.
I like this way of wording it. I'm often nostalgic for an older version of my reality, when this double-conscious or "internal persistent resistance" [paraphrase] wasn't so busy scrutinizing my decisions.
Hi rezzeJ - Have you seen this video about how eminem puts together rhymes. He does't get to talking about eminem until about 3'16" -- The speaker says that rap music liberated the rhyme scheme from the usual end-of-line pattern. (This isn't true of course given that "The Raven" was written in 1845), but my point is that your internal rhymes in this poem reminded me of the rhymes in Lose Yourself. I'm looking forward to seeing more of your poems in these threads. I saw the other new one, but haven't had a chance to reply yet.
Yeah, I caught that video on Reddit, quite interesting. I quite like the idea of rapping but I've never consider myself as having the right demeanor for it. To that end I just decided to kind of try to cross that with my love of creative writing. I've tried writing stuff without rhymes but I find it less expressive, I have an addiction to finding interesting rhymes. Thanks to these prompts I've only just started taking poetry seriously, before that I just made silly Haikus and Limericks. So thank you.
Are you just part of me or some separate entity?
This line seems to reframe this wonderful piece as a meditation on parts of the self? I love listening to the internal rhymes and rhythm of this piece, but also like to understand. Is this a new piece or a song you wrote before? Anyway, it's great.
Narcisuss, the Man with no eyes to see who he wasn’t:
died alone with you at his side.
He just wants us to know it’s he, “I despise.” To die
to lie
to die I’m gonna die alone with you at my side.
Just want you to know it’s me I despise. Together
together
together Didn’t mean to waste my money
on something as nutty as that. Waited two hours for your call
just for you to show up and leave in half.
Its all my fault
its all my fault they say money’s the root of all evil
but it’s wang’s money
where’s money’s yang?
where are you? woman.
Binge life’s just a mess
control comes less and less
so to ice cream and burritos
I seek solace which salsas? which sauce?
life’s a coin toss
but when it comes to these meals
Haha! finally i’m the boss but sometimes the habit controls the hand
and I fill my belly beyond my waistband
an all night food party
that I seriously hope won’t end salty then sweet, then savory meat
leads to sweet, back to salty
with this cycle, there is no replete my anger builds , fear on the rise
shamed of this mouth
holding back tears in these eyes but I won’t cry, I’m just tired
and alone; couldn’t purge if I tried
which I won’t don’t you know purging means you’ve got a problem?
And problems? I can do without em’ so I hold it all in, till’ the next day wake in a ball of shame
failed at this food n’ life game - unless I do something fast!
so I’ll exercise and skip meals:
now that’s a good deal!
That's how I'll beat this game:
starving the belly till' it grumbles my name
wow, wow -- welcome to "Today's Writing Prompt." Last night I posted a new prompt - and this poem, while clearly about hiding in food, speaks to the next prompt - which is What Are You Hungry For?. Could you copy it over to there: more people will see it. (Keep it here as well - ) I'll write you separately about something that came up! (Did you like rezzeJ's poem? - I think you are both grappling with similar issues of being human.)
Chen will be the Kyota the early yellow all, look to the right summit to the main plane of Gansei area gift Kiss a grassroots, wash your face green gold You are washing heavenly stream gifts bronzing pale; Its humble beginning color the cavalry cloud, by anonymous. Mutually exclusive on the shelf a sacred ugly face and how ugly a machine Karen internationalism, hidden rolling pin, mutually exclusive, Go west, and the transfer of stealing shame gifts: Devil flash one morning the immediate early flight, so we consider the solar the Imperial Society wins, a typical owner of overhead; In the non-completion of ah! A small only other Other typical office overhead cap cloud on the ground, we are currently. Therefore, there is no way ,my cheap love, other chicks is natural; Universal time a legion of dirty stains on the sun, the sun days. Tho.