Letting Go

Something Harried Mystic said has reminded me of a poem I wrote a few years ago so I went and had a little trawl through my archives……..

 

Letting Go

 

When a poem is written,

Released to be read,

It ceases to be mine alone.

Like a wayward child,

It speaks its mind

To all it encounters

And is changed forever:

I never meant that!

That’s not what I said.

Futile!

I gave it life,

Gave it wings,

And now must say goodbye.

It has its own life:

A purpose, a mission maybe.

And I, like every mother,

Wish it well, wave it off,

Shed a tear and hope at least

For a Christmas card

And flowers for Mother’s Day.

 

It applies to pretty much all writing, but poetry, with its inbuilt mystery is most prone to the discoveries of the readers.

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16 thoughts on “Letting Go

  1. The poem itself and the fact that it is old brought this to mind :

    people come and go
    and forget to close the door
    and leave their stains and cigerette butts
    trampled on the floor
    and when they do
    remember me , remember me

    some of them are old
    some of them are new
    some of them will turn up when you least expect them to
    and when they do
    remember me ,remember me

    Some of the are old
    Brian Eno

    peace

  2. I like this one. It’s true. We create our poems but once they’re published, shown, see the public light of day, they grow up and stand on their own feet (but if we wish, “copyright” lets others know they are still ‘family’ to us).

    Nice poem, Viv 🙂

    • Well copyright is a hard one to prove but I tend not to worry. As Michael commented “Beauty and art have a way of traveling hand to hand, word of mouth by word of mouth.” If you love something, let it go and if it comes back, it loves you too, I suppose!
      I remember finding meanings in a poem of Yeats’ that surely he never meant at the time…

  3. opoetoo, that’s a mighty fine poem you show here. I like it too. It gives me the same feeling and a writer’s desire for ‘recognition’ hidden in the pockets of “remember me, remember me” resonates with me too. 🙂

  4. Each poem is its own creation.

    Once it resonates with another soul, a new creation is synthesized and so on, and so on, and so on.

    Beauty and art have a way of traveling hand to hand, word of mouth by word of mouth.

    Thanks for touching me with these words.

    michael j

  5. As students we were taught that the reader recreates the text in his or her unique way. It is also true that at different stages of life one’s perception of a work of art can be different.

    In this line of thoughts, I am not sure I got your message from Strangers and Pilgrims, but I’m sure I got the right message for me.
    Reading your novel has been a most extraordinary experience. I recognized aspects of my own life, my way of thinking and my behaviour in each of the characters. As they evolved and revealed themselves in the course of the story, so did I. I felt I was part of the action, no less eager to find out the secret of the Warden and the Wellspring than the characters. Just like them I kept wondering what my heart’s desire was at first. Towards the end of the book I already knew as well as realized that I had to give it up in order to set myself free from the fears and phobias crippling my life.
    Thank you, Viv.
    As for the artistic merits of the novel, the combination of a unique captivating plot with your free flowing style and psychological insight is bound to have a powerful effect on the reader. Good luck in your future both as a person and a writer!

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