Against the Odds
Posted: 06 November 2003
Word Count: 52
Summary: One can't always explain where poems come from. This one is no exception.
|
Font Size
|
|
My own worst enemy,
wantonly destroying,
carelessly dashing,
my god-given energy.
And, although, acutely aware,
I still shred my life
with serrated scissors
into flailing tatters.
But,
I breathe,
I moan,
I sigh,
I punch my fist high.
And, as long as there is
life in my body,
I contemptuously,
resolutely
defy.
|
Comments by other Members
| |
 roovacrag at 20:19 on 06 November 2003
 Report this post
|
Everyone is there own worst enemy. Relax,sit back and think. What do you want from life. Do you want a man a destiny , a life. Spit it all out and we will sort it.
Take your time with it. You are not alone, you have friends. xxxxxxxxxx alice
| |
The Walrus at 20:30 on 06 November 2003
Report this post
|
Thanks Alice! Thinking is something I try, in all seriousness, to avoid. What do I want from life? Nothing. I search for nothing. I am. And, yes, I, like many others, am privileged to have some astonishing people around me. For that, I am both grateful and humbled.
The Walrus
| |
Fearless at 12:00 on 07 November 2003
Report this post
|
Dearest Walrus
Making comments on poetry is always tricky, as interpretations are so very open, but I hope this is read in the spirit of gentleness in which it is written.
In thinking over my comment to this lyric, I was reminded of two qoutes:
'...genuine poetry is conceived and composed in the soul'
Matthew Arnold
and
'Poetry is a way of taking life by the throat'
Robert Frost
Your piece poses questions in my mind, and perhaps this is not the place for me to ask them. It is true that we are our own worst enemies, just as we are each our own saviour - but that we rarely say out loud, and I wonder why that is?
But if the wings of the narrator's life are shred by serrated scissors, then their protestation to take flight may be in vain, making the poem sound like a last gasp, a dyning breath. However, if there is such insight and understanding of the self, then the narrator will do well to drop the scissors before they punch the air (and their crust) with their fist of defiance, if they are to ultimately prevail, fly and smile.
Love, peace and respect
Fearless x
| |
Bobo at 13:00 on 07 November 2003
Report this post
|
The relationship with self is complex - the ultimate in love-hate. We can create and destroy so so much in and of ourselves - balance, as always, is elusive.
Beautiful writing Ms Walrus.
Lisa x
| |
markosterloh at 18:51 on 09 November 2003
Report this post
|
Hi Walrus
Forgive me if I lack the eloquence of previous posters, but I like the passion in this piece. Do you ever indulge in that most cultish of pastimes - performance poetry? Having endured much ill advised and obscure verse in various backstreet north London pubs, 'Against the odds' is a breath of fresh air - quite aspirational in fact - and would work well if spoken aloud.
Mark
| |
Fearless at 19:02 on 09 November 2003
Report this post
|
Walrus; Mark is absolutely right. Aspirational and inspirational poem. Give it a whirl!
Fearless
| |
The Walrus at 20:45 on 09 November 2003
Report this post
|
Dearest Fearless,
Like all, yes, always composed in the soul. And, from gentleness, I hope. And, yes, if you know your enemy, you are in a position to face him head on. As for scissors and fists, all hangs in the balance of unrequited balance.
Walruses are resilient creatures. Prevalance inevitable.
I return your love, peace and respect with a kiss upon you nose.
Ms Bobo
Wise words indeed.
How goes it
Your end
Wrestling with
The all consuming
Confusing
Crafted
Articulation of
Desire
Frustration
and
Need?
xx
Mark
Your eloquence is not lacking, but, I retain the title of numero uno nob. What is 'performance poetry'? If it is, what I think it is, then I would welcome the opportunity to prostrate myself to the audience of a North London pub.
The Walrus
| |
 tinalouise at 20:02 on 25 August 2004
Report this post
|
I too cannot comment with any particular knoledge of right and wrong styles etc. But I do know that I loved the honest, raw feel of this. The straightforward, unhindered emotion was wonderfully spilt with a momentum and rhythm entirely natural to this reader. I also entirely relate to your comment about 'not thinking' deliberately - it tends to drown out the muse. Namaste
| |
| |
Comments by other Members
