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Beware of the Owner

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For Constance La France's D form Dramatic verse poetry contest.

 

 

"To live is to suffer; to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering." Friedrich Nietzsche Some say life is a mirror.. Whenever he whistled his eerie tune, he would always tell me, 'It's my death hymn.' But, then a grin would appear on his face. I can recall it was a cold and wet Sunday evening. I saw him, all sullen sitting on a bench and to this day, I remember him saying, "Beware of the owner, I might take you into depression with me. I should tattoo that upon my forehead." He used to have such a beautiful garden, and he went on to say, "Welcome to my garden of gloominess, but I hope you do not stay for long, because I sent no invitation. Can't you see my flowers are bleeding and the blood won't stop - their scent of death has filled my air." I sat in silence, not sure what to say, so I just listened, as it seemed life had put him through severe mental torture and he was falling like rows of dominoes. But, it made me realise, maybe I had been faking it too and all this while, you had believed it all. I only let you see my smile, when I've been so tired, from being who you want me to be. Every time I make space for happiness, sadness knocks the door of my sanity. Even those who claim to love me, cannot see how there is a deadly drought in my levels of serotonin, so I'm crying whilst writing poetry, pretending to be fine. He then said, "My life is a mess and I am the creator of my chaos." It reminded me about when they ask me to express myself, but they fail to comprehend my torment, so I feel silence is a better option. I wish I was stronger than this, and I could sulk in the red room of pain for a while. They say everything starts at home, including heartbreak and coldness. I still remember my mother's lullabies, silenced by my father's ferocity. I wonder if things would be different, if I was born on the other side of the world. A different family, a perfect home, an enriched childhood. But with this dysfunctional mind, every night, anxiety tucks me into bed. It's a rollercoaster ride with demonic entities. How can I explain when, you asked me what my problem was, but now you're not listening to me. It's not me pushing people, it's them pushing me away! My problem is not the world, it is my own mentality that is torturing me. Doubt has left me sleeping on withered roses. Their thorns cutting deep like sharp shards of glass. There's a time when I questioned my existence. Wondering if there was any value in breathing, but I was too afraid to die. Lost in my own anguish, he turned and asked, "How do I let go of the pain?" He paused and then softly said, "No medication can heal childhood sorrows. How do I let these thoughts go, because unstable platforms have disabled my foundations. I want to be neither a saint nor a sinner, I want to be hidden from societal judgement. Will I find closure from these chains of pressure. I'm a titanic sinking deep in the waters of no return, I beg you don't leave me alone in this room of doom. I feel abandoned, so let me forget myself and rest in this pit of self pity. I've become a stranger in my own home, afraid I may drag you down into my darkness. I bet happiness would be my friend if I was unkind. I wish I had an eraser to correct all of my mistakes. but It's not me who is indifferent.... It's the world." Then he got up and left, I didn't know what to say, as he walked away. I never saw him again after that. I looked up to the sky and saw the sun appear. Life is a series of records on a gramophone of memories playing on loop every day. Sometimes it's a repetition of melancholic piano, but sometimes it's full of joy and makes you want to dance. But the most important thing is - we are in control of the music we play..

Copyright © | Year Posted 2024




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Date: 8/7/2024 2:01:00 PM
Silent, congratulations on your win in my contest with this wonderfully penned poem, well done, love the quote too, Constance
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Date: 7/16/2024 12:34:00 AM
Although this is us a powerful poem of someone else is some of it perhaps you, but you have the strength to walk away from it as you are the gardener in your own space which in turn allows you the peace you seek. As for the other in this poem he seems that he will drown in his own unhappiness and will die a very scared person unable to come to terms with life, Inviting the grimi reaper into his earthly existence. A certainty is the everything starts at home ''the good, bad, happy and sad'' but one can change this situation by this by looking back and rembering the good and happy times, and that you yourself must come to peace with yourself. Gosh SO do you not feel the love of your readers, it's because you are a real person, and we all sense it . Your poetry is a philosophy of life and the living, Hugs and blessings Jennifer
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Date: 7/15/2024 2:11:00 PM
Dear Silent One, Congratulations on your contest as this was so intriguing and captivating poem. The image of "soaking in the red room of pain", so dark, anguish and totally theatrical. I'd say you nailed this one. Blessings to you!
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Date: 7/15/2024 1:25:00 PM
Congratulations on your win. WOW!!! What a powerful write. Love your line, "They say everything starts at home," Yes, it does. The good/bad/happy/sad. We learn what we live. We can change, some do. Great Ending.... Have a blessed day writing away.................
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Date: 7/14/2024 10:57:00 AM
Thank you for sharing something so soul deep.I don't believe this is a fiction because it feels too real, too raw. But correct me if I'm wrong. The struggle with depression/ anxiety is real. Medications can help with the screwed up chemical imbalances but it isn't a cure all. It is a disease just like any other... no one is immune to it even with faith in a higher power.but for me, that faith brings some comfort, knowing ...
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Crystol Woods
Date: 7/14/2024 10:59:00 AM
Xoxo <3<3
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Crystol Woods
Date: 7/14/2024 10:58:00 AM
Someone with a plan and love for me is in control. The meditation of prayer calms some of my anxiety as well. I pray you find your truth, peace, and your comfort in whatever form that becomes for you. Just don't give up! The sun will rise in the morning! Xoxo oh and beautiful writing... to evoke this level of empathy it had to be!
Date: 7/14/2024 7:27:00 AM
And, God is very much in control of our song, even when we play the notes. He is sometimes silent and sometimes inviting, sometimes a light and sometimes I can see Him in the night... but always, He holds my soul in His palm and I ache to know Him more because, with God, love is so alive, so pure, so much more than words can express. Your poetry, as is always the case, sends goosebumps whispering to my senses. You are a writing wonder. With a pen so alive, so inspiring. God bless you sweet friend. Love always, Gina
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Date: 7/13/2024 3:16:00 PM
I agree that everything starts at home. And I always wished it was different. But then I wonder, if I didn't have those experiences would I be this informed? Would I have been this strong? Traumatized, yes. But I'm still on the right part. Would I have met my friends? A lot. "Every time I make space for happiness, sadness knocks the door of my sanity." Every time. And it tells me not to be happy because I'm going to be sad anyway." It tells me happiness wouldn't last so I embrace the sadness.
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Silent One
Date: 7/14/2024 1:19:00 AM
Our experiences make us who we are today.. some get stronger, some fall apart.. but we only drown if we stay in the water.. Thank you Tonye..
Date: 7/13/2024 1:47:00 AM
"But with this dysfunctional mind, every night, anxiety tucks me into bed. It's a rollercoaster ride with demonic entities." These lines made my eyes misty. I can feel that this is not entirely fictional... but with pieces of yourself here and there. In many of your poems, I have read about a melancholy that overpowers you, your unhappy childhood with a ferocious father and your disappointments in love. All these seemed to have pushed you into a self made cocoon of silence. Probably the pain you suffered all through your life has given your poems such intensity and depth. Please know that though you didn't get enough love, You are so much loved by your fellow poets. Instead of anxiety tucking you into bed, how like a mother, I wish to tuck you to bed. Cheer up man...! As you feel....."Sometimes life's a repetition of melancholic piano, but sometimes it's full of joy and makes you want to dance.... ! Surely the melancholic tune will change and you'll dance.
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Valsa George
Date: 7/14/2024 7:57:00 PM
Silent One, it is relieving to know that there is some melodrama in your poem. Thank you dear Tom for your lovely acknowledgement!
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Silent One
Date: 7/14/2024 1:19:00 AM
That is a lovely comment and it is great that you read my poems in such depth.. However, this was a dramtic verse, so I added a bit of melodrama to it.. Thank you so much for your great comment and support.. I am lucky i have lots who love me.. friends and family..
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Tom Woody
Date: 7/13/2024 5:59:00 AM
Valsa your comments are as good as your poetry!
Date: 7/13/2024 1:10:00 AM
I found this fascinating to read and the added sound bites of dialogue from the non narrator are so intriguing. They emphasise the point of sitting in happiness and beauty but being unable to absorb it. Some very poignant lines that could easily spin off into new poems. Well done
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Date: 7/12/2024 1:45:00 PM
With you we never know how much is real and how much is fiction. I like to think that even in fiction we reveal pieces of ourselves. How could it be otherwise? This was hard to read, but necessary. There are real people in real pain and it really doesn't matter if the hurt was self inflicted or brought about by someone else. I have a saying, "It doesn't matter if I shot myself in the foot or someone else did. It hurts the same"
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Tom Woody
Date: 7/12/2024 1:46:00 PM
Awesome poetry. You've been on a roll of late
Date: 7/12/2024 1:06:00 PM
Dear silent one, this is so poignant and heart wrenching to read. To learn from a tender age, what melancholy is and the feelings of abandonment and rejection is never something that one can erase. Life can sometimes be a bed of withered roses. Thorns sometimes is the only thing that reminds some that they are alive. As everything else feels like a burden. Your last line says it all. Sometimes life is a repetition of melancholic piano and whats important is for us to learn how to be in control of the tunes we play. And allow. To feel like home is a distant dream , when bloodlines betray, and disappoint, its never easy. This poignant verse really made my soul stir and feel so much! Brilliant quote too! Well delivered! Best wishes for the contest!
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