Month: Apr 2015
How to say “Goodbye!” to your self
THREE DAYS AGO, I put one of my poems on here, entitled “Today, I Bid myself Goodbye”. I then received a message saying: “Hey, Alan, are you depressed? Why would you want to say goodbye to yourself. That’s weird”. So I have written this article as a form of reply. Although I am grateful for this guy’s concern, I must say that I am not at all depressed. On the contrary! I can, however, understand why some may be unfamiliar with the idea of saying goodbye to one’s self. So this is a kind of commentary on the poem designed to show what I meant by it.
1. WHAT DOES “SAYING GOODBYE TO YOUR SELF” MEAN?
Firstly, I should say that saying goodbye to your self does *not* mean that there will be no ego whatsoever. One would cease to exist if that occurred! One does actually need some healthy aspects of ego purely in order to survive in this world. Neither is it a reference to any kind of suicide, which some might think on a superficial reading of the title.
Today I bid myself Goodbye [poem]
Today, I bid myself a firm goodbye.
I thought I’d better get it over with
instead of waiting calmly till the end
when everything I think I am or was
will have dissolved: Confetti whispers
dissipated on the icy wind of death —
my final breath a sigh of unfulfilled
and thenceforth nameless dreams.
Asphalt [poem]
It seemed just like a scar
but it was just another
bump in the road.
Asphalt is like that —
(so my road has said
with deadly accuracy)
— inconveniently
melting through the
dissipated heat of
wasted passion into
dangerously delightful
suddenness of flight.
Blindsided by my
worthless dreams
and schemelessness
(despite the wounds)
I’m getting used to
trembledom of night.
Lord Greville protected from Prosecution
Some Paradoxical Words about my Personal Experience
TODAY, SOME PARADOXICAL WORDS ABOUT MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCE. It was going to be a 3rd person poem but it’s come out in a more prosaic manner. To some, these words will seem crazy. To others (maybe just a few — maybe none at all!), they will ring so true that bells will peal in your hearts. It is with you who I share them for your encouragement.
The Rocket & The Simulated Door [poem]
As I made my weary way across the cosmos
[may the reader glean the mystery here],
my rocket engines getting past their prime
(for I had travelled far and wide and rocketed
through many gruelling rides, though here
I don’t think I’ll confide in you them all),
I’d contemplated putting into scrap (and thus
I’d forfeit too my journey back) my old
fatigued titanic frame and would no longer
be linked up with other craft and astr{a}nauts
(or so I, at that wretched time, had thought).
Philophobia [sonnet]
Fear of falling in love is now the weft
and woof of life within this broken world.
Responsible for frozenness and theft
of hearts, on which its bitter gall is hurled.
The Missing Jewel [sonnet]
Some years ago a stone fell from my ring
(and all because there was no setting there).
It somehow balanced on the goldsome thing
all by itself, until the ring was bare.
<!–more Continue reading…->And so I’d lost the stone (it seemed back then).
But even though it disappeared from view
I knew it would be found (though just not when).
The whole event was swathed in déjà vu.
It may seem strange (it came as no surprise)
when some years later, by the frozen food,
that missing gemstone danced before my eyes —
exquisite in its sparkling pulchritude!
I fastened it with ardour on the band.
Its light then filled the void upon my hand.
© Alan Morrison, 2015
The Naked Troubadour 