This forgotten poem is from sometime between 2003 – 2007. The meaning is likely having to do with my choice having been made from an early age that I preferred the idea of adopting a child over having a biological one. That said, these poems always have open interpretations.
Dreams Of An Unborn Child
Oh little flower of Eden Out of reach for all who be Be picked for creation For all the earth to see
Thank you for taking the time to read this poem today! Have you ever found any of your old writing? What did you think of it? What do you think of this one? I’d love to hear in the comments!
If you’d like to see more of my forgotten poetry, please like, comment, and/or share this post. It helps me know what content my readers are most interested in seeing, so I can better know what to share here.
Today I turn 31 in the year 2020. The world is chaotic (to say the least). But there is so much for which to be thankful. We have an opportunity in this dark time: we can use this as a pathway to finding our similarities and common ground. We can use this as an opportunity to show compassion toward our fellow human beings. Don’t believe me? I have a challenge for every person reading this.
If you’re ever feeling alone, think about the population of the country where you live. I currently live in the United States – a country with a population of 328.2 Million people. Approximately 27% of Americans report using Google as their primary search engine. That means approximately 88.614 Million Americans use Google as their primary search engine.
That means that whatever the statistically most likely predicted completion of a search phrase is results from millions of people searching that phrase.
This means you are not alone. With every crazy question you have for the internet, you are not alone. For these first fifteen, I’m going to be very general. Then, once this concept has been demonstrated, let’s go on a journey. Some of these are funny, some are depressing, some are revealing.
1. “Is it…”
2. “What to…”
3. “Does the…”
4. “Are there…”
5. “Do I…”
6. “Why is…”
7. “Who was…”
8. “Did I…”
9. “Where are…”
10. “Am I…”
11. “How to make…”
12. “When will…”
13. “Does the United States…”
14. “How many…”
15. “How often…”
That’s a doozy.
Okay! So 15 questions in and you’ve noticed that Americans are just as confused about our units of measure as the rest of the world and things do seem to be interesting. Plus, if you’ve been sedentary and are questioning while your bowel habits have changed, you’re not alone. Drink more water, eat more fiber, and start going for more walks. You’ll feel better.
These next questions are for those of us that recognize that search histories get a little weird when you’re writing. So, let’s start looking at some of the autocompleted questions related to writing research I’ve seen lately. These get a bit dark and others are truly revealing.
1. “What do serial killers…”
2. “Why do serial killers…”
3. “Why do wives…”
4. “Why do husbands…”
5. “Why do partners…”
6. “Do cows…”
7. “How to fake…”
8. “How to destroy…”
9. “Why doesn’t…”
10. “Humans are…”
I warned all of you that was going to get dark.
There’s one final search I am going to show you – it leads to one of my favorite poems I had forgotten about and hadn’t read in over 10 years.
“Hope” is the thing with feathers (314) – Emily Dickinson
“Hope” is the thing with feathers – That perches in the soul – And sings the tune without the words – And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard – And sore must be the storm – That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm –
I’ve heard it in the chillest land – And on the strangest Sea – Yet – never – in Extremity, It asked a crumb – of me.
I hope you can hear Hope’s song, and even if you can’t right now, know that you are not alone in searching for it amongst the noise.
What were your autocomplete results like when you searched similar beginning terms? Were they the same as mine? If you have suggestions of other terms for me to search please leave them in a comment 🙂
I am so thankful for your company on this bizarre journey through search engine autocompletes on my birthday. If you enjoyed this post, please share it, like, or comment. Without you, this post would be stored quietly on a server somewhere. Have a wonderful weekend ahead 🙂 With Love – Lo.
I’m excited to share and feature 4 poems by Jordan Pace. You may know him by his Twitter or his new book Perfectly Imperfect. I’ve had the pleasure of working with Jordan as a fellow author in the Writing Community and through Coffee House Writers. I love these poems, and found myself paying special attention to ASerpent’s Kiss as I broke down the complete experiences described. That said, I’m going to save my personal interpretation of each poem and what I took away from it until after. Without further ado, let’s begin.
We sat side by side It felt as if we were miles apart. Our cups dangled With our feet; We watched as waves crashed against walls. We talked for hours, Our words felt like whispers Was he hiding something? I couldn’t tell The breeze so strong The faint smell of salt air Losing my reason to care I leaned forward, my full intention to fall He caught me, his cup staring with an inviting glare I arrived at it, A feeling of curiosity washing over me Why does his coffee have no flavor? I look back again I wonder When did this space get so empty? Who was I talking to all this time?
The waterside imagery steals me away and I, too, am sitting on that retaining wall, feeling detached from the person I am with – wondering if I knew them this whole time. The metaphor of time and conversation to waves eroding the relationship and details of the scene overtime hits me in a soft underbelly place I haven’t thought about in a while.
Lonely, I am fine, quiet inside. a war rages on the other side. there are cracks in my armor, No perfect men wear armor. You, My imperfection, a variable I cannot account for. Your slithering, salty, sinking words burrow into me, like a bullet lodged in a dead man’s chest A bullet Cannot be pulled out without care. I keep it there. Holding fast to what remains of you, unaware of its effects. I see you in places you did not exist, a bad dream fades into reality. As I lay on the bed, there is nothing left to say. I knew the risk and how it would end. You watch over me, a serpent’s gaze. Has the poison taken effect?
The narrator first begins with a self assessment – he is an imperfect man: a perfect man would need no armor. Worse yet, his armor has cracks that left him vulnerable to abuse in this mind trick of self blame.
As the narrator continues to describe this ex-abuser as a venomous snake, it becomes obvious how appropriate the comparison is. Some relationships are toxic like venom, leaving lasting wounds in the form of trauma. He is holding it both intentionally and against his will.
But the narrator in the poem suffers the lasting effects of the relationship even if everything seems quiet on the surface. The lasting trauma is described as a “bullet lodged in a dead man’s chest” implying the depth of despair and destruction felt surrounding the trauma.
The last 3 lines may be the most impacting. “I knew the risk and how it would end.” The narrator describes the gut feeling paired with the inability to resist the relationship. It could be argued that with the comparison of the ex to a serpent, the narrator was hypnotized. “You watch over me, a serpent’s gaze.” The last line closes the poem with the hardest question of all – that of intent. “Has the poison taken effect?” Did the abuser intend this all along? Is this what they wanted?
Excuse me, baby, I’m tired, your hips swing with energy to light my world for eons. Excuse my language, But I think you’re a dime, a definite “jack of all trades” when it comes to working Excuse me for entering your life, Then exiting, by mistake
Apologetically, there are short lived relationships that can feel bought or traded. The narrator then mentions leaving unintentionally, apologetically, even though there is nothing wrong with the other party. There are many layers of guilt here.
I WAS CREATED TO BE YOU
You cannot relate to my pain- molded by fires, created through some ultimate desire. A mold, I was left to fill your desires and when it did not work, I was told to simply “get over it.” My world is torn asunder; my life unraveled.
Years of work and effort made to seem like less than the step forward it truly was.
All because it didn’t work for you? Was I never considered in your equation? Was I even ever a variable?
Lots of these things, I will never, ever know, but one thing’s for sure: I may have to spend the rest of my life defining myself.
To me, this poem screams of the struggles of the effects of a narcissistic relationship. I interpreted this as a parent-child relationship and what I call “bonsai children”. Bonsai children grow up with parents who carefully shape and mold every aspect of their lives so they are more like ornaments to benefit the parent more than individuals.
About Jordan Pace
Jordan Pace’s book Perfectly Imperfect is available for purchase here in paperback and on kindle. You can keep up with their writing on Coffee House Writers here. To keep most up to date, you can follow them on Twitter.
What did you think of these interpretations? Do you agree? Disagree? Did you find different meaning that I didn’t find? Let me know in the comments! Do you want to see more of these posts? Let me know by liking this post or commenting below.
As always, thank you for reading. Remember to keep supporting artists and authors during these crazy times.