WHEN POETRY IS PERSONAL... footnotes, background, revelations... PROVIDING KEYS TO LOCKS

CYNDI MACMILLAN's Blog

About CYNDI MACMILLAN

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Writing a biography irks me. How much to reveal? What tidbits to conceal?

The Basics: I’m a 45 year-old, stay-at-home mom of an adorable two year old girl. I’m happily married to a wonderful man who is my living contradiction, the quiet to my loud, the calm to my frantic. Life continually amuses, bemuses and confuses me.

My first poem, which I wrote at five, was entitled, “Lov is Magik” and my father kept the fading, folded paper I scribbled it upon in his wallet for decades. I have tinkered in poetry ever since, but my main passion is fiction. My short stories have been published in the local papers. Occasionally, I dabble with creative non-fiction. I have a several chapters of a book completed which I’m hoping to submit to Avalon Books.

Despite years of living in Ontario, I will always consider myself foremost a Montrealer. Now living in Waterloo County, home of Research in Motion, maker of the Blackberry, I am content in our downsized apartment which is close to uptown, but overlooks Laurel Creek. Though considered Canada’s Silicon Valley, the city is surrounded by a picturesque countryside filled with Mennonites. It is not uncommon to see a Mercedes Benz carefully pass a horse drawn wagon. Even our local hardware stores provide parking for buggies. We have many wonderful festivals, two universities, and culture galore.

I spent years as an E.C.E. teacher and adore children. Now, that I have one of my own –after 16 heartbreaking years of infertility – my days are filled with finger paints and drinking imaginary tea from tiny pink tea cups. Sleep is a distant memory and writing is my night time balm. My hubby works evening shifts. After my girl is asleep, my imagination runs wild and I write.

I am a Jill of all trades. I've worked as a personal care attendant in a home for young people with physical and developmental challenges. Had a short go as a dishwasher in my younger days, oh joy. I've also been an engraver, a store manager, a cashier at the Sally Anne, but my last job was as at an office where I worked on databases (I WISH I was a geek.)

As a newer member of Poetry Soup, I am often dazzled by its diversity,the quiet, shy voices, the bellows in the foreground, the cackles in the corners. There is so much talent here! I love the contests run by its members as I enjoy a challenge.

Nice to meet you! Looking forward to growing together, as writers and friends.

Hugs, Cyndi

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WHEN POETRY IS PERSONAL... footnotes, background, revelations... PROVIDING KEYS TO LOCKS

Blog Posted:2/10/2013 12:29:00 PM

Su’s most recent blog is thought provoking. Please, read it! Among other things, it calls into question the assumption which poets often make on what is deemed common knowledge.

Now, it got me really pondering what we relay in our verses. I was thinking about the... responsibility?... that poets PUSH onto the readers. Poetry, to me, is meant to be … streamlined. Explanation shouldn't be inserted into a poem, the way some poets force rhyme, sacrificing art for clarity.

If one reads about deep sea diving it should read as the experience of the diver, not as a step by step guide on how to put on the scuba gear.

When a 13 year old reads Flander's Fields and has no concept of war and its toll, then that youngster must be given the background in order to understand the poem.

We all must have enough of a glimmer to "get it." Sure, some things are universal: love, pain, longing, forgiveness, truth, food and sleep and regret...

And yet I believe everything, all life’s experiences, merit the ability to be preserved, celebrated or lamented, in poetry.

EVERYTHING.

So, where does that leave the poet?

FOOTNOTES!

Please, if I haven’t lost you, read this poem:

Embroidered Dreams

Embroidered dreams pierce one long night,
Your silken floss pulled its invite,
Needles prick the small child in me,
Haunted by shadowed tapestry,
Those knots you made of dark and light.

I watch your hands, so pale and slight,
Lift and plunge with thin strands of white,
Before dawn breaks my heart I see
                                                Embroidered dreams

I sit at your feet, so contrite,
While frayed threads are tugged much too tight,
Each stitch that you left holds snugly,
But what you shaped longs to rip free,
All comes undone and now I write
                                                Embroidered dreams

This is a highly personal poem.

I posted this on soup, entered it into a contest and received some lovely comments in regards to its language.

Now, what this poem is about…

I am dreaming of my mother who was bipolar, at the time called manic depressive.

She loved to embroider and passed this hobby down to me. As a young girl, I often would just sit beside her and watch her motions, fascinated by the process of stitch and knot. Embroidery is an art.

Her condition was hidden from me and I did not understand her mood swings, often violent and frightening. Her emotions were complex and engulfed her family.When manic--- when she was happy--- oh, she was delightful… de-light-filled. Engaging, captivating, sweet and loving. She was a petite, pretty woman with patrician features. Her hands were doll like, small but with long, dainty fingers.

Then there was my ‘other mother.’ Her anger was terrifying. After trying to kill my father on her 45th birthday, she got drunk and hung herself with an electric cord in a stairwell. I got the call just before dawn. I was devastated by the news. I was there to see the body bag rolled out on a gurney. I went through her things and donated them to the Salvation Army. I was a teen. It took over 25 years to let go of guilt for not being able to help her.

I loved and still love my mother, regardless of what transpired, the rage, occasional beatings, and the things which she said to me that no child should EVER hear. Decades after her suicide, I still miss her. I battle with memories, try to hold on to the dear ones while letting the horrific ones go. Mothers MOLD us as children and as adults we are apt to examine, closely, who we have become, who we truly want to be.

Bipolar mimics the movements one uses to embroider clothe. Up and down. Down then up. It pierces. The thread can seem pretty at times, frayed and wrought at others. One needs to see the whole picture, looking at it from only the front shows only one side. Turn it around. See the workings, the knots, the frayed ends…

Now, if you have time, please, read my poem again, perhaps a tad slower.
What do you see now?.
What do you know now of its heart?

Embroidered Dreams

Embroidered dreams pierce one long night,
Your silken floss pulled its invite,
Needles prick the small child in me,
Haunted by shadowed tapestry,
Those knots you made of dark and light.

I watch your hands, so pale and slight,
Lift and plunge with thin strands of white,
Before dawn breaks my heart I see
                                                Embroidered dreams

I sit at your feet, so contrite,
While frayed threads are tugged much too tight,
Each stitch that you left holds snugly,
But what you shaped longs to rip free,
All comes undone and now I write
                                                Embroidered dreams

Thoughts? Fire away!

And please read Su's blog! VERY INTERESTING!

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JoannGrisetti

Date: 2/11/2013 1:09:00 PM

I like the way you fit all of the emotions into the rondeau form. B-P is different with each iindividual and meds now are so much more advanced. I have these same dreams for my daughter.

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Joann Grisetti Date: 2/11/2013 1:10:00 PM

I like the idea of a weekly interview.

Suzette Crous

Date: 2/11/2013 11:53:00 AM

@ Cyndi.... The interview idea is great (see my comment at end of this page, please). :-)

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DebbieGuzzi

Date: 2/11/2013 9:47:00 AM

Of course Sis, you know I got this the first time...I would for it runs in my family also [thank goodness so far I only have anxiety issues controlled with diet exercise, yoga & meditation]. Back to your original tac .. footnotes etc. I feel the write should grab the reader in such a way that if there are a few things they don't get GOOD that helps them grow! Off they go to research a word! BUT if the write is not evocative, is strictly dry and scholarly most will just stop reading it. Lastly, at certain times of life certain things appeal, what you couldn't get into at 20 might capitivate you at 60. [PS sort my verse for Mother poems & for the word knots]

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Mystic Rose

Date: 2/10/2013 5:01:00 PM

You have a voracious passion for writing my friend, and your an excellent teacher, but truth be told, I will never be able to express my inner emotions so deeply as you, the more you reveal yourself to me Cyndi, the more I am in awe of you. I want to thank you for your dedicated ways, your courage and your friendship. My grandmother taught me how to slip stitch when I was very young, the memory lasts forever, so will you, in my heart, love xxx

CYNDI MACMILLAN Date: 2/10/2013 7:14:00 PM

Thank you, lady-with-the-big-heart! And you write deeply with a style and grace which I admire.... your words are always kind and I'm gratefu that you are here on soup, where your gentle outlook and spirit continue to nurture all, and that your poetry always speaks to the heart xox right backatcha

elizabethwesley

Date: 2/10/2013 4:42:00 PM

This was a heart wrenching confession Cyndi and as you wrote it I can imagine how much you had to let go of so that we could have knowlege of it. Life is confusing at the best of times with moments of beauty and terror; we are expected to react with some degree of normalcy but often that is not possible. Your poem is the testimony of a child's confusion and through it all, enduring love.

CYNDI MACMILLAN Date: 2/10/2013 7:18:00 PM

Lizzy-Dear, yes, it was all so confusing. My mother taught me many things which contradict the chaos of my childhood. One was honesty, at all costs. We each have stories, a thousand chapters, yes? Some are lovely... some, well.... there is no way to convey an entire life into a poem. Only snipets. Hugs to you. I DOOOO think of you. :)

RachelSt.Cross

Date: 2/10/2013 4:17:00 PM

‡ Hi Cyndi, Growing Up Amid Dysfunction With Its Psychological Scars As Subsequent Fallout, I Knew The Deep Pangs Amid Sorrows Heart, As I Am Sure From Your Moving Yet Beautiful Blog Your Own Precious Heart Must Surely Somewhat Know ? Having Spent A Lifetime For The Most Amid These Shadows Grips ? Today, I Choose To Pass By Their Taunting Beckoning Calls, So To Speak ˜ But Owww How I Do Love, And I Understand Pain. ˜ Your Poem Is Beautiful, As Enlightening Towards Not Only Your Beautiful Self Yet Also, How One Should Perhaps Approach The Reading Of Anothers Poetic Verse ? Sorry About Your Precious Mother, God Bless Her Soul ˜ Love Always, Rachel *

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CYNDI MACMILLAN Date: 2/10/2013 7:20:00 PM

Thank you, Rachel. I am glad that you are avoiding the shadows... take care. Cyndi

craigcornish

Date: 2/10/2013 3:13:00 PM

BTW, I must clarify--just in case--when I said below, I hesitate to call it a poem, I meant it was greater than a poem--it's a super awesome poem and I truly love it and shall seek it out and fav it--like many others of yours!!

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CYNDIMACMILLAN

Date: 2/10/2013 2:34:00 PM

I'm enjoying reading these comments, each with great points. I also understand that each point of view comes with its own history, experiences and interpretations that I can not possibly grasp, unless these are shared with me, as well. Will comment to all personally, later. Dinner calls! Motherhood calls! My family is on the way home ... hugs Cyndi

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craigcornish

Date: 2/10/2013 1:20:00 PM

First, I agree with Suzette, I am blown away with the emotion, the personal intensity of this. So much so that I hesitate to call it a poem but more a look at your naked soul. There are so many souls that could not be where you are--there must be something they gave you at their best that was golden, or perhaps, no, you are surely a tested gift left to us, a combination of those golden gifts and simply you. That being said, what those self absorbed pointy headed academics are saying,trying to say in a way that is bullcrap,would'nt incite me half as much if it were plain talk as you have written here,and interpretations, particularly for the young should be drawn out, not explained.

craig cornish Date: 2/11/2013 9:57:00 AM

sorry----Cyndi

craig cornish Date: 2/11/2013 9:56:00 AM

I hear you Cundi

CYNDI MACMILLAN Date: 2/10/2013 7:30:00 PM

Have you ever noticed that if we read something, then reread it twenty years later, it suddenly has more depth? Perhaps, we've read more on a subject, experienced a life change, lost something, gained something.. as we grow so do our interpretations, yes? xox must sign off soon.

CYNDI MACMILLAN Date: 2/10/2013 7:28:00 PM

The pointy heads were taught by pointy heads who were taught by pointy heads ;-) It isn't their fault, not really. I often wonder at all the interpretations and what some of the poets would have to say about poetic autopsies , and how far they are from the the poets vision.

CYNDI MACMILLAN Date: 2/10/2013 7:24:00 PM

I am constantly trying to define my voice as a poet. I love metaphor, the play of words that is subtle, complex. Yet I do not believe in 'stranding' the reader, that they feel at a complete loss, staring at abstract without so much as a lifeline! This poem was, truly, written only for me, after the actual dream. I was back. Watching her.

Suzette Crous Date: 2/10/2013 1:32:00 PM

:-)

DavidWilliams

Date: 2/10/2013 12:56:00 PM

Cyndi I think I am going to sound a tad trite when I say I knew where you were coming from the first time I read your poem, but that is only because I had ' problems' with both of my parents (both dead now) and you are right, we as the adults do examine ourselves but if you are like me then there are no answers to be extracted. I do have another take on what you are saying because when it comes from to it I would rather 'Show not Tell' where possible I would rather take the risk and make the reader stop and think or even better read it again. I like your poem it does paint a good picture...

CYNDI MACMILLAN Date: 2/10/2013 7:47:00 PM

Not trite, at all :) I sometimes think the pen just has a mind of its own. I do edit. Rethink a twist of thought, too much of this, not enough of that... I show as much as possible, and (I think) the bottom line is that poetry should first be written to please its author. Or else why write it at all, eh, chum? Hugs to you and the Mrs!

Suzette Crous

Date: 2/10/2013 12:46:00 PM

Goosebumps! This is so much more powerful once the door is opened and I got to look inside the poem - not just words on a page. Thank you for sharing this very personal history with us. I do think that it illustrates perfectly what I have been trying to communicate in my blog. You just said it so much better. Blessings, Cyndi. Love, Su

Suzette Crous Date: 2/11/2013 11:52:00 AM

I think that it is a great idea. But why stop at just new poets. Maybe we could have a weekly "vote" of poems we wish to put up for nomination to be interviewed.

Suzette Crous Date: 2/11/2013 11:52:00 AM

Maybe we could do the interview Live here... all are invited to ask questions - sticking to the poem.Just thinking out loud here. If you have a look at my Bio here, it kicks off with an interview which was done on me. The standard questions might give you a frame to start off with.... :-)

CYNDI MACMILLAN Date: 2/10/2013 7:55:00 PM

Blessings back,Grrrrr, I detest these tiny boxes that (irony here) do not allow chatter boxes, like me!, to wax on. Anyways, lol, blessing backatcha! Hugs!!!! Cyndi

CYNDI MACMILLAN Date: 2/10/2013 7:52:00 PM

Hey, Su, for some time now I've been considering a weekly blog (I do want to start my weekly newsletter again, highlighting the new poets on soup.) I have long thought how cool it would be to take a poem that is obviously layered with meaning and then send the poet questions, and then post the "interview." I can see some liking this, and some hating it, big time ;-)

My Past Blog Posts


THE IRONY OF MY IGNORANCE--RE: BANGLADESH Date Posted: 5/19/2013 7:15:00 AM
HO HEY: WRITE ME A PUB SONG, WINNERS! Date Posted: 5/14/2013 9:16:00 PM
A LOVE LETTER TO INDIA... A TRIBUTE, FOUND ON THE CONTEST PAGE, update on pub songs Date Posted: 5/14/2013 6:47:00 AM
PRAYERS AND CONCERN FOR BANGLADESH Date Posted: 5/7/2013 12:34:00 PM
Daily Haiku: The journal of Contemporary Haiku Date Posted: 5/7/2013 5:30:00 AM
DOES ANYONE HAVE NEWS OF OUR LINDA-MARIE? Date Posted: 5/7/2013 4:51:00 AM
HAIKU AND PHOTO-- Use as a prompt, share news, whatever Date Posted: 5/5/2013 4:54:00 PM
HAIKU AND PICTURE... feel free to use as a prompt, add a haiku, thought, news, whatever! <3 Date Posted: 5/4/2013 11:16:00 AM
MOMMY BLOG: TACTICAL PARENTING Date Posted: 5/1/2013 8:35:00 PM
SOME OF THE PEOPLE ON SOUP. WHO I THINK YOU ARE. TAKE A PEEK! Date Posted: 4/29/2013 8:14:00 PM
SYLVIA, A CROWN OF SONNETS, FOR CRAIG & ALL PLATH FANS Date Posted: 4/26/2013 4:11:00 PM
Sak Vid Pa Kanpe, ghostwritten... YO RUBEN! Date Posted: 4/25/2013 12:10:00 AM
NEXT DARE, FIX SOMEONE'S UNFIXABLE. PROVE IT CAN BE DONE! WHO'S IN? RUBEN, I TAG YOURS... LET ME DO IT! Date Posted: 4/24/2013 5:43:00 PM
OH, LORD, I SWORE I'D NEVER SHARE THIS... JUST FOUND IT... CIRCA 1998 Date Posted: 4/24/2013 4:58:00 PM
OLD SERVING OF CRAP FOR PD AND RUBEN... COME 'N GET IT WHILE IT STINKS TO HIGH HEAVEN Date Posted: 4/23/2013 3:43:00 PM
Z IS FOR ZARIA, WINNERS and CONGRATULATIONS! Date Posted: 4/16/2013 10:30:00 PM
NEW CONTEST, HO HEY: WRITE ME A PUB SONG Date Posted: 4/11/2013 8:33:00 PM
A POEM FOR FRANCINE ROBERTS, FREE VERSE Date Posted: 4/10/2013 8:32:00 PM
ONTARIO'S PROVINCIAL FLOWER-- Photo for all, but especially for PD Date Posted: 4/10/2013 11:22:00 AM
THE THORNY CROWN, A RONDEAU Date Posted: 3/28/2013 9:57:00 PM
SOUPERS, PLEASE READ. AN IDEA I SENT TO TPS. WATCHA THINK? WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE THIS, TOO? Date Posted: 3/27/2013 4:53:00 PM
LINDA IRMA --- PD---- LOVE AND SYMPATHY CARD, SOUPERS PLEASE SIGN. Date Posted: 3/26/2013 6:03:00 AM
101 WAYS TO OUT YOURSELF AS A POET. WHAT MAKES A POET... FOUND HERE. Date Posted: 3/25/2013 5:02:00 PM
PALADIN, FREE VERSE Date Posted: 3/21/2013 9:32:00 PM
INTRODUCING MY NEW FORM: the I DO NOT CARE Date Posted: 3/20/2013 8:27:00 PM

My Poems

Date Posted

Poem Title

Form

Categories

5/18/2013

POETRY

Free verse (vers libre)

poetry,

5/13/2013

MADE IN BANGLADESH

Ghazal

change,clothes,death,

5/10/2013

Contemporary haiku

Haiku

children,family,mother,sw

5/7/2013

LOVE CLAMORS, A DIRGE FOR CIVILITY

Villanelle

care,people,rights,

5/6/2013

haiku for Catie

Haiku

games,sexy,

5/5/2013

SUNDAY SOJOURN

Haibun

garden,morning,time,

5/3/2013

a cluster of men

Haiku

summer,

5/3/2013

haiku - For Moms

Haiku

life,may,mother,

5/3/2013

haiku 7 - verbless

Haiku

seasons,

5/2/2013

FLOWER FAERIES

Quintain (English)

fairy,flower,

4/28/2013

WOMEN, FOR DEBBIE GUZZI

Free verse (vers libre)

friendship,gender,

4/26/2013

SYLVIA, FOR CRAIG CORNISH, FOR ALL PLATH FANS

Crown of Sonnets

life,poets,writing,

4/20/2013

THE POET'S CREED

Free verse (vers libre)

poetry,world,writing,

4/18/2013

TYPEWRITER

Free verse (vers libre)

lust,writing,

4/17/2013

IT---FOR A TEACHER AND FRIEND ON HER RETURN

Free verse (vers libre)

poetry,writing,

4/11/2013

GET ME TO THE PUB

Lyric

funny,life,places,song,me

4/10/2013

TWELVE DOLLARS, UNLESS PRICED DIFFERENTLY, dedicated to Francine Roberts

Free verse (vers libre)

nostalgia,women,

4/9/2013

haiku 2013

Haiku

flower,food,

4/8/2013

THE ADJECTIVE IMPERATIVE

Couplet

on writing and words,word

4/1/2013

MY JANE

Sonnet

romantic,

3/31/2013

haiku for Charles

Haiku

nature,people,time,

3/28/2013

THE THORNY CROWN

Rondeau

easter,faith,

3/26/2013

THE FIRST OF APRIL

Haibun

holiday,hope,pain,

3/24/2013

CRUCIBLE

Villanelle

hate,suicide,teen,heart,h

3/21/2013

PALADIN

Free verse (vers libre)

people,sympathy,

My Photos

Fav Poems

Poem Title

Form

Categories

The Sowing

Free verse (vers libre)

devotion

Ten Little Toes

Rhyme

daughter,lifeold,old,,gra

Woodland Rhapsody

Quatrain

inspirational

Contradicting Keats

Sonnet

introspection,life

Surrender to Love

Rhyme

loveme,

A Totum Pole Ode

Concrete

native american,people,

MORE DREAMS TO ROW

Rhyme royal

inspirational,life,

FALLEN LEAF

Dizain

nature,

When the Tab Comes Due

Free verse (vers libre)

inspirational,introspecti

Lighting My Candle From Within

Quintain (English)

caregiving,introspection,

The Kirk by the Sea

Couplet

nostalgia,religion,love,

Moonlight On The Ward

Choka

health,life,

Nocturnal Poetry

Rhyme

imagination,life,poetry,

Slumber

Epic

dedication,epic,slam,

FROSTY MOONLIT STROLL

Couplet

inspirational,seasons,

Our Thanksgiving

Light Poetry

holiday,

Tomorrow's Grace

Etheree

peace,

A New Star Shines Above Hawaii

Rhyme

dedication,music,

UNSPOKEN

Lyric

angst,love,people,

Jesus, Our Savior

Shape

religion,life,

Monarch of Summer

Verse

animals,devotion,inspirat

Untouched

Rhyme

forgiveness,me,me,

Midnight Pearls

Than-Bauk

introspection,love,

Beaucoup Blooms

Terza Rima

nature,spring,spring,

On Heaven's Doorway

Narrative

inspirational,life,care,c

Fav Poets

Poet	Country
Debbie Guzzi	United States	Read
Caryl Muzzey	United States	Read
Andrea Dietrich	United States	Read
Joe Flach	United States	Read
nette onclaud	Philippines	Read
Drake Eszes	United States	Read
Mystic Rose	Canada	Read
mourning mist	France	Read
elizabeth wesley	Canada	Read
Rhonda Johnson-Saunders	United States	Read
Ruben O.	Argentina	Read
Carrie Richards	United States	Read
kathryn collins	United States	Read