Thank you, Lizzy 💛. I feel odd that I keep returning to this poem; I think it’s the “not quite there” feeling that bugs me. But also I’ve been turning over some of the emotions behind the poem lately. Why did I think that was all I deserved? Thirty-plus years later, I do know (thank God) that love isn’t feeling put down or not enough, but I really didn’t know it then.
I keep trying to figure out why I get stuck on this poem. It started off as a formal quatrain (I think that was the original form?) in a poetry workshop, and there’s been something about it that I’ve wanted to fix ever since, or figure out. It’s not really the emotional content of the poem anymore; it’s just the poem itself.
I prefer different elements of both. The last verse definitely ties it all together.
I tend to stop fiddling about a couple of years, or I write a whole new one. I did rewrite one about a candle for a theme, it was about 40 years old, but kept both versions. There is one I need to rewrite the last life of that is also that old, but I just can’t get it right.
Thank you for your thoughts on both versions, Tamsin.
I’m glad you get the urge the fiddle. It’s funny—I’ve never really thought about completely re-writing poems that stick with me until the last year or so. Sometimes it feels like the fresh start I need to get past a stuck poem.
Wow incredibly poignant. I can see why you can't put the poem away considering its probably also a vessel for the memory and the time itself - like an access point or something. You tell it so powerfully.
This feels like it encapsulates a memory in that beautiful, painful way that our youth demands. So cool that you've been revisiting it over the last few decades. Adam recently posted about how he revisits themes. And I think that's part of the beauty of art is that it allows us to rethink a 'frozen' moment, walk around it to look at it from different angles in different lights, and then decide what story we are going to tell ourselves about it upon this viewing. Thank you for always sharing so openly, Margaret Ann.
This makes me want to take 16-year-old you out for coffee and give her the biggest hug ever. What a powerful poem. 🫶
Thank you, Lizzy 💛. I feel odd that I keep returning to this poem; I think it’s the “not quite there” feeling that bugs me. But also I’ve been turning over some of the emotions behind the poem lately. Why did I think that was all I deserved? Thirty-plus years later, I do know (thank God) that love isn’t feeling put down or not enough, but I really didn’t know it then.
28 years later?! That's dedication!!
I keep trying to figure out why I get stuck on this poem. It started off as a formal quatrain (I think that was the original form?) in a poetry workshop, and there’s been something about it that I’ve wanted to fix ever since, or figure out. It’s not really the emotional content of the poem anymore; it’s just the poem itself.
I prefer different elements of both. The last verse definitely ties it all together.
I tend to stop fiddling about a couple of years, or I write a whole new one. I did rewrite one about a candle for a theme, it was about 40 years old, but kept both versions. There is one I need to rewrite the last life of that is also that old, but I just can’t get it right.
Thank you for your thoughts on both versions, Tamsin.
I’m glad you get the urge the fiddle. It’s funny—I’ve never really thought about completely re-writing poems that stick with me until the last year or so. Sometimes it feels like the fresh start I need to get past a stuck poem.
Wow incredibly poignant. I can see why you can't put the poem away considering its probably also a vessel for the memory and the time itself - like an access point or something. You tell it so powerfully.
This feels like it encapsulates a memory in that beautiful, painful way that our youth demands. So cool that you've been revisiting it over the last few decades. Adam recently posted about how he revisits themes. And I think that's part of the beauty of art is that it allows us to rethink a 'frozen' moment, walk around it to look at it from different angles in different lights, and then decide what story we are going to tell ourselves about it upon this viewing. Thank you for always sharing so openly, Margaret Ann.