< in the doll house >

[rayheinrich]

   
    Sun in an Empty Room - Edward Hopper



                                                < in the doll house >
                                               
                                                at night
                                                in the doll house
                                                sometimes
                                                i'm afraid of the sounds
                                               
                                                but in the day the house is silent
                                                though
                                                sometimes
                                                i hear the echoes of a bark that makes me want to leave
                                                and meet the dog outside
                                                and meet the day
                                                and meet the night as well
                                               
                                                is there a dog outside?
                                               
                                               
                                               
                                                its barking disappears and i forget about the dog
                                                and all the silence that its barks destroyed
                                               
                                                and through the window comes the sun
                                                its light so bright it sets the drifting dust aglow
                                               
                                                the silence of the afternoon
                                                when everyone's away
                                               
                                                it's time to sleep
                                               
                                               
                                               
                                                this house
                                                (with us inside)
                                                through all these years
                                                of sun
                                                of silence
                                                standing like a promise waiting to be kept
                                               
                                                are we awake?
                                               
                                               
                                               
                                                at night
                                                if there was no one here to be afraid
                                                the sounds in this old house
                                                would be just sounds
                                               
                                                we're always here
                                               
                                               
                                               
                                                this house of dolls is where we live
                                                a house within a house that isn't here
                                                that was discarded years ago
                                               
                                                there isn't anyone that's left
                                                that's listening
                                                (not even you)
                                               
                                                all gone
                                                all long since pulled apart
                                                destroyed...
                                               
                                               
                                               
                                                in this old house
                                                inside the center of a day when everyone's away
                                               
                                                in this old house
                                                the silence and the barks surround our dream
                                               
                                                we wake
                                               
                                                they slice into our dream
                                               
                                                we wake
                                               
                                                amidst the pieces of this house
                                               
                                               
                                                - - -


Older version:

                                                 < in the doll house  >
                                               
                                                at night  
                                                in the doll house
                                                sometimes
                                                i'm afraid of the sounds
                                                 
                                                but in the day
                                                the house is silent
                                                though
                                                sometimes
                                                i hear the echoes of a bark
                                                that makes me want to leave
                                                and meet the dog outside
                                                and meet the day  
                                                and meet the night as well
                                                 
                                                is there a dog outside?
                                               
                                               
                                               
                                                its barking disappears
                                                and i forget about the dog  
                                                and all the silence that its barks destroyed
                                               
                                                and through the window
                                                comes the sun
                                                its light so bright
                                                it sets the drifting dust aglow
                                                 
                                                the silence of the afternoon
                                                when everyone's away
                                               
                                                it's time to sleep  
                                                 
                                               
                                               
                                                the house
                                                with us inside  
                                                through all these years  
                                                of sun  
                                                of silence  
                                                standing like a promise  
                                                waiting to be kept
                                               
                                                are we awake?
                                               
                                               
                                               
                                                at night
                                                if there was no one here
                                                to be afraid
                                                the sounds in this old house    
                                                would just be sounds
                                               
                                                we're always here
                                                 
                                               
                                               
                                                this house of dolls  
                                                is where we live
                                                a house within a house
                                                that isn't here
                                                that was
                                                discarded years ago
                                               
                                                there isn't anyone
                                                that's left
                                                that's listening  
                                                (not even you)
                                                all gone
                                                all long since pulled apart  
                                                destroyed...  
                                                 
                                               
                                               
                                                in this old house  
                                                inside the center of the day        
                                                when everyone's away
                                               
                                                in this old house  
                                                the silence and the barks
                                                surround our dream
                                               
                                                we wake
                                               
                                                they slice into our dream
                                                 
                                                we wake
                                               
                                                amidst the pieces of this house
                                                       
                                                                - - -

[Erthona]

do you need to be an ass and center justify.
                Makes copy and paste a pain in the butt, plus it makes it
               much harder to read. Reminds me of an episode of the
                "Ghost Whisperer", where the dolls in the doll house were
the family that use to live there but refused to
go into the light, or that sort of bullshit you know.
 

[rayheinrich]

do you need to be an ass and center justify.
Makes copy and paste a pain in the butt, plus it makes it
much harder to read. Reminds me of an episode of the
"Ghost Whisperer", where the dolls in the doll house were
the family that use to live there but refused to
go into the light, or that sort of bullshit you know.
 

It's not center-justified (note straight left margin), I just spaced it out so that its placement was
in the middle of the illustration. And yes, maybe that's a bit anal, but that's how the author wanted it.

As to content: I've spent months re-writing, revising, and editing the damned thing and I've achieved
the suspension of disbelief necessary to deem any negative criticism as a failure on its author's part
to understand its true import.

Ray

P.S. And uh... "Ghost Whisperer"???
You should be embarrassed to possess knowledge of this series.

It's meant as an homage to Philip K. Dick's novel Ubik
(specifically its concept of "half-life") and by extension to
Richard Linklater's movie Waking Life. (If I was going
to go the TV route, there's an episode of Rod Serling's
"The Twilight Zone" that comes pretty close.)

"The victory of failure lies in dreams." - Ernesto Hubere

For what it's worth, here's the poem without the space-out:

< in the doll house  >

at night  
in the doll house
sometimes
i'm afraid of the sounds

but in the day
the house is silent
though
sometimes
i hear the echoes of a bark
that makes me want to leave
and meet the dog outside
and meet the day  
and meet the night as well

is there a dog outside?



its barking disappears
and i forget about the dog  
and all the silence that its barks destroyed

and through the window
comes the sun
its light so bright
it sets the drifting dust aglow

the silence of the afternoon
when everyone's away

it's time to sleep  
 


the house
with us inside  
through all these years  
of sun  
of silence  
standing like a promise  
waiting to be kept

are we awake?



at night
if there was no one here
to be afraid
the sounds in this old house    
would just be sounds

we're always here



this house of dolls  
is where we live
a house within a house
that isn't here
that was
discarded years ago

there isn't anyone
that's left
that's listening  
(not even you)
all gone
all long since pulled apart  
destroyed...  



in this old house  
inside the center of the day        
when everyone's away

in this old house  
the silence and the barks
surround our dream

we wake

they slice into our dream

we wake

amidst the pieces of this house
     
  - - -

[Erthona]

When I was recuperating after the discovery that I had CHF along with some other untreated illnesses and all I could do was lay in the recliner and suck O2, it was one of the few things on early in the morning. I think it followed "Charmed". My brain was in such condition it only recognized that the big eyed, big titted girl couldn't act for shit, but otherwise it seemed a fun show, besides I had few options. Personally, I think it should brother you that your poem was compared to one of it's episodes, not that a half dead man was familiar with the show, but we all must have our priorities straight I suppose. Did you say something about Art Linkletter, terrible thing about his daughter and all.

Well now that you've told what it is suppose to be, maybe you'll get some comments

At least  you got more movement than i did on mine. Lots of views, but only one comment and in serious at that.

dale

PS In the painting where is the metal crossbars reflections?

[rayheinrich]

Personally, I think it should bother you that your poem was compared to one of its episodes, not that
a half dead man was familiar with the show, but we all must have our priorities straight I suppose.

Anyone capable of making the comparison (i.e. aware of  "Ghost Whisperer") isn't worthy of critical consideration.
If I had my priorities straight, I wouldn't be trying to write this stuff.

Did you say something about Art Linkletter, terrible thing about his daughter and all.

It's "Linklater" not "Linkletter" he said unironically.

Well now that you've told what it is suppose to be, maybe you'll get some comments

It was already what it was supposed to be; and since I didn't reveal the secret meanings, it still is.
 
As far as comments go, it's gotten four. And considering the quality of half the commenters, I'm quite pleased.

At least  you got more movement than i did on mine. Lots of views, but only one comment and in serious at that.

The "Serious" forum is different; the more comments, the worse it is.  

PS In the painting where is the metal crossbars reflections?

Jeez, hadn't noticed that. But it makes sense: Hopper is a great artist,
he doesn't need to stoop to literality. Besides, it probably signifies something deeply
intellectual that anyone who's watched "Ghastly Whisperer" (or looked it up on Google
when some cretin mentioned it) wouldn't get.

[just mercedes]

I like the use of white space in your poem, echoing the image that accompanies it. Within the poem, the word 'the' appears often - along with 'that' and 'that's', which for me are weaknesses. Empty-of-meaning filler words stand out in such a sparse work. They add nothing to the circling thoughts. I really like the sound you've added, though. The 'bark' becomes the insistence of the world outside.

[rayheinrich]

I like the use of white space in your poem, echoing the image that accompanies it. Within the poem, the word 'the' appears often - along with 'that' and 'that's', which for me are weaknesses. Empty-of-meaning filler words stand out in such a sparse work. They add nothing to the circling thoughts. I really like the sound you've added, though. The 'bark' becomes the insistence of the world outside.

For me, the filler words are necessary to convey the sense that I'm speaking directly to the reader.
I think that trying to make the poem seem a bit more intimate (spoken to the reader conversationally,
using those tiny worlds we always seem to include) adds to the emotional connection I want the reader
to feel with the writer. It's intended to be an atmospheric poem, an allegorical dream; it needs a bit of
toning down so as not to seem too distant.

But I did look at it and you've made me realize that some of those "the" "thats" "that's" should be
contained within a line, not at the start of them. Those unnecessary line breaks dulled the intimate
(intended, at least) feel of it.

I've edited it to remove them. Does that improve it for you?
(I love this version; thanks for your help.)

And thanks for considering the damn thing; now I can claim to dale that a real world exists outside
of our two selves. (To the extent that a poet [you] can be considered part of the real world...
no, wait, poet's are the communicators of reality, aren't they? [Our egos know no bounds.] )

Ray

P.S. Also, I admit, some of them were placed just for filler to maintain (after the first lead-in stanza)
the poem's strict construction in iambic feet. I sometimes break a foot between lines so that some
lines turn trochaic, but it remains disylabic the whole way through as to maintain its dreamlike dance.