Home » Poetry » Day 185 – A Thousand Lives

Day 185 – A Thousand Lives

“I’d rather wander lonely through a thousand lives
than to see you pulled from the sky.”

They never said it,
never said anything,
but it was the reason for it all-

all the chaos,
then all the quiet.

Years later when they moved
she found that newspaper clipping
between two mattresses.
He took the painting of her off the wall.

He’d won another award;
he hoped she still looked the same
but didn’t believe it.

She’d been published twice;
she knew he didn’t look the same
but couldn’t believe it.

And on the first day of Autumn that year
there arrived on two sparkling doorsteps
a painting and a newspaper clipping
with no words, no more to be said than

I’d rathered to wander lonely through a thousand lives
than to’ve seen you pulled from the sky

scrawled across the backs.

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16 thoughts on “Day 185 – A Thousand Lives

  1. For those of you interested in how my poems are created, it goes a little something like this:
    I was reading a book last night, periodically thinking to myself that I didn’t know how I would ever write another poem (like I think every night, and then determine to forget about it.) I got up to make peppermint tea and while staring at the kitchen tiles I had a vague thought of newspaper clippings, and I wrote down ‘I know why you did it’ in the journal next to my bed before falling asleep.
    I thought about it upon waking and thought about it in the shower and thought about it in the car and then I let it go to focus on the kids. At lunchtime I wrestled with this for about an hour, and then knew it was finished because it brought tears to my eyes and I feel physically exhausted.
    I’ll spend the rest of today trying to forget about poetry, worrying because I don’t know how I’ll ever write another poem, but trusting that tomorrow another one will force itself into existence somehow.
    I feel very alone most of the time.

    • The poem is amazing. This explanation or “peak” into the process is equally engaging and very relatable for me. I don’t think I could explain it quite as elegantly, but I do quietly wonder just how or why that loneliness is there. Part of me believes it is a necessary evil and part of me struggles to understand it-but either way, I can’t help but ask the question. I’ve also heard somewhere, this loneliness or the “artist’s abyss” is what makes one a “true” artist. It’s unjustly simplistic to tell myself or anyone else that “one should focus on the finished work rather than the pain it took to create it” because it minimalizes the blood, sweat, and tears that eventually created the poem. In a sense, it is true though. I wasn’t intending to go into a lengthy exploration of it. Essentially, I just ran with my thoughts so apologies for that…I suppose the point here, is that all of what I just wrote here was inspired by reading your poem and your thoughts on writing it. (An inspiration that would never have been without the pain behind the process)…Thank you.

  2. Perhaps, Charlotte, if you where to explore investing one of your poems into a short film, for me this would be the one. The way it connects, and unravels across the investments in each instance, wakes something inside.

      • Sourcing friends and people with similar interests, and knowledge (often they sometimes come with certain resources, and equipment too) in the various aspects to film may help. It is difficult to know everything when it comes to cinematography, sound, lighting, directing, art direction, location sourcing, etc. But on a smaller scale one can certainly experiment with a good many of these aspects to film production. Planning it out can be a good place to start, script, story boards, production time frame, locations, art/set design, expertise to assist, perhaps budget, post production requirements. Even a short film takes time, from months to a couple of years as available time, skills, and budget permits. Well worth pursuing if film has your interest, even if taken in small steps to do what you want to achieve. The pre-production areas are a great place to start. Best of luck, always!

  3. Excellent poetry. Charlotte, you have mentioned that you feel alone. For me, poetry cannot be forced upon. It springs up, springs up from different incidences and different moods of a poet. Feelings of loneliness, happiness, joys, infatuation etc. are some of those moods.

    • As apt a description as I could give it myself! Thank you 🙂
      It seems I have at times found myself in situations so tragic that I wonder perhaps if my life was a poem before I’d lived it…
      …or whether tragedy is the only thing worthy for a poet.

      • But we only have art through experience! For my part I’m a better person for it and in terms of this story it’s better to have paintings and newspaper clippings to send to sparkling doorsteps than to feel responsible for hindering a loved one’s potential.

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