The Poem I Meant to Write

[Reilley]

THE POEM I MEANT TO WRITE

I regret not writing you down,
You swam through my mind
Linking words and thoughts
With gossamer chains
That glistened with meaning,
But the kitchen can was calling my name
Using the voice of my wife.
There were skinned knees to be kissed,
Equations to be sorted out,
House rules to be followed.

Has the opportunity passed?

Have you flown, like a caged bird
Through a conveniently open window?

Are you even now winging toward
Another poet, a different writer?

I have the scraps, the fragments,
The word-pieces I had intended
To build you from.
I will try to arrange them so,
In hopes they cast the same shadow.

Like my grandmother’s smile -
You linger just behind my eye,
Waiting for me,
Wanting to be released
In just the ‘write’ form.

[Owlster Bierce]

Hey, Reilley; pretty cool poem about writing poetry. Most of these fail miserably.

BTW: Where do I know you from? Did you used to post somewhere using a different name? I don't recognize "Reilly."

Dan

[Reilley]

Hey, Reilley; pretty cool poem about writing poetry. Most of these fail miserably.

BTW: Where do I know you from? Did you used to post somewhere using a different name? I don't recognize "Reilly."

Dan

I'm the reformed bad boy of TIBU, founder of the Dedham Poet Society, my first name is Christopher.

[rowens]

Have you flown, like a caged bird
Through a conveniently open window?

...and what comes right after, doesn't work. It makes you think the reverse, that someone else's words have been winging toward you.

The last line doesn't work very well either.

But the first stanza, and the one that starts, I have the scraps, have the potential for a good poem on the subject.

[billy]

hi reilley
over all i enjoyed the piece. i think you could strengthen some of the lines;
the 1st and 4th in particular but i think you have the bones of a solid poem here. poems about poetry can be tricky but this is much better than most about the subject.

thanks for the read.

THE POEM I MEANT TO WRITE

I regret not writing you down,
You swam through my mind
Linking words and thoughts
With gossamer chains not sure gossamer works well enough, even metaphorically, no suggestion apart from something electric
That glistened with meaning,
But the kitchen can was calling my name not sure what a kitchen can is but like the change in pace
Using the voice of my wife.
There were skinned knees to be kissed,
Equations to be sorted out, no need for out
House rules to be followed.

Has the opportunity passed?

Have you flown, like a caged bird
Through a conveniently open window?

Are you even now winging toward feels too wordy a suggestion would be to drop [are you even now] or at least part of the phrase. sorting out the question mark to suite. i do like how you're ending the simile
Another poet, a different writer?

I have the scraps, the fragments,
The word-pieces I had intended
To build you from.
I will try to arrange them so, not sure this and the next line add anything
In hopes they cast the same shadow.

Like my grandmother’s smile -
You linger just behind my eye,
Waiting for me,
Wanting to be released
In just the ‘write’ form. a good stanza apart from the clever way of using write, it isn't as clever as you thing

[Reilley]

Great advise, thank you, this is just what I came for. )

I've always been on the fence about the "write" thing. This poem is four years old, and in its last incarnation the voting was only slightly in favor of cute.

A kitchen can is one of those small waste baskets under the sink, a domestic image I thought was universal, but I guess not

[btrudo]

If you want the pun, opt for "right", you'll still get the overlap of write on it.

THE POEM I MEANT TO WRITE

I regret not writing you down,
You swam through my mind
Linking words and thoughts
With gossamer chains
That glistened with meaning,
gossamer glistened...come on, how often do you use those words?Find something you use.
But the kitchen can was calling my name
kitchen can is probably overly specific. Kitchen by itself would probably be better
Using the voice of my wife.
There were skinned knees to be kissed,
Equations to be sorted out,
House rules to be followed.

Has the opportunity passed?
Have you flown, like a caged bird
Through a conveniently open window?
combine stanzas

Are you even now winging toward
Another poet, a different writer?
worried your poem is cheating on you, now that would be funny, but simply going to another poet...I don't want your poem...

You could probably skip this stanza without any loss.

I have the scraps, the fragments,
The word-pieces I had intended
first two lines...good
To build you from.
I will try to arrange them so,
next two...not so smooth
In hopes they cast the same shadow.
cast shadow is good, though this could be because I've been thinking about it.

Like my grandmother’s smile -
You linger just behind my eye,
First two lines good, the last 3 seem like they could be better. \Waiting for me,
Wanting to be released
In just the ‘write’ form.

wanting to be etched
more firmly than in my mind.

Having written, I know it is a juggle trying to keep the start of a poem together when you're doing something else, so this will be clear to poets. Non-poets, I don't know.

This definitely has good soil to work with. The central idea works; now get all the lines.

a few thoughts,
Bill

[ehabuncensored]

Seriously, as I started I got goosebumps n the more n more I read the more violent they got then the chills almost to the point of tears, but then it ended (perfect timinv) idk if it was joy or saddness but this was brillian f**ing genius!!!!!! So many ciuntless times of this endeavor, n here it is emotionally explained in a charachter to charachter. Seriously shakesperre wuda sh*t lol idk for sure but this is hands dowb genius n officially one of the best things I have ever let these eges read. Glad ur subject caught my attention. Thanks for letting me enjoy! But not thanks for the quick emotional rollercoaster, weird...haha.

[jdeirmend]

THE POEM I MEANT TO WRITE

I regret not writing you down,
You swam through my mind
Linking words and thoughts
With gossamer chains
That glistened with meaning,
But the kitchen can was calling my name
Is "kitchen can" an idiom? I'm unfamiliar with the expression.
Using the voice of my wife.
There were skinned knees to be kissed,
Equations to be sorted out,
House rules to be followed.

Has the opportunity passed? Strong recommendation: eliminate this. You say it below in an image that makes it redundant.

Have you flown, like a caged bird
Through a conveniently open window?

Are you even now winging toward
Another poet, a different writer?

I have the scraps, the fragments,
The word-pieces I had intended
To build you from.
I will try to arrange them so,
In hopes they cast the same shadow.

Like my grandmother’s smile -
You linger just behind my eye,Not sure if I'm taking you too literally, but how is this possible? I.e., in what sense can your grandmother's smile lurk behind your eye? If this is a memory, it would be good to spell this out.
Waiting for me,
Wanting to be released
In just the ‘write’ form.

All in all, I enjoyed this for the experience that it attempts to capture. It is perhaps an experience common to all writers: throughout our day to day experience, things trigger thoughts that solicit us to capture them in writing. But we can't, by way of obligation or whatever, and the thoughts go back under, into a preconscious if not unconscious state within us. Then ensues the struggle, later on, to dig them up. This process is just an image of the powerful desire each of us has for continuity with ourselves, and how it is not always possible.

The poem is poignant, because it points to continuity and self-identity's impossibility; how fragmentary a thing experience is, and how our efforts to integrate it must at times fail. I like that it finishes on a redemptive note: the grandmother's smile, however cliched and awkwardly placed, evokes the notion that a love that is other than "I" can attune us to those parts of ourselves that seem lost, and thus help us to achieve some sort of imaginary wholeness (though I don't mean imaginary in any perjorative sense here).

What I love most about the poem just came to me, though. Early on, the speaker laments his inability to write and maintain self-identity in the inscribing of memory, owing to familial obligation. When he sits down to try and remember it, he is taken back, however, to a memory of the familial love that made identity for him at all possible.

Given that, I would say to meditate on that final stanza.

[allykat727]

THE POEM I MEANT TO WRITE

I regret not writing you down,
You swam through my mind
Linking words and thoughts
With gossamer chains
That glistened with meaning, this line and the line before this is just beautiful
But the kitchen can was calling my name just a thought, but it might be nice to see this as a new stanza.
Using the voice of my wife.
There were skinned knees to be kissed, a gruesome and strange yet understandable image. i like it
Equations to be sorted out,
House rules to be followed. the duties of the practical life. a great contrast to the gossamer chains that glistened with meaning just moments ago

Has the opportunity passed? love this line here, all by itself.

Have you flown, like a caged bird
Through a conveniently open window?

Are you even now winging toward "even now winging" seems awkward to me but i love the continuation of the bird imagery
Another poet, a different writer? and i adore this idea, that a poem can flow through you and if you miss it, it may find someone else to speak to

I have the scraps, the fragments,
The word-pieces I had intended
To build you from.
I will try to arrange them so,
In hopes they cast the same shadow. i'm not crazy about this stanza... i think it needs something more. you can say the same think with just "i will try to reconstruct you." what does it mean to you to have the do that? is there any chance of being able to succeed? what does that feel like? and what imagery can you convey to show us this?

Like my grandmother’s smile -
You linger just behind my eye,
Waiting for me,
Wanting to be released
In just the ‘write’ form. i'm not sure this simile works. its a nice image, your grandmother's smile lingering just behind your eye. but your grandmother's smile is a memory, not a flow of ideas that saturated your mind and flew out the window. if you were to stay true to that concept, it actually isn't waiting for you. it has given up on you and moved on. and it isn't wanting to be released by you anymore. It is off in the abyss of elsewhere, finding someone else to release it. on a last note, i have mixed feelings about the pun. it is definitely clever, but i am not sure it meshes will with the mood of the piece.

Overall, I love the concept of this piece. However, I felt as if it started strong, but didn't really go anywhere. I think there is a deeper layer of this to explore. Thank you for the read!