Another one

10/19/2011

5 Comments

 
"Arriving in Paris always causes me pain, even when I have been away for only a short while.  It is a city which I never fail to approach with expectation and leave with disappointment.  There is a question which only I can ask and which only Paris can answer; but this question is something which I have never yet been able to formulate.  Certain things indeed I have learnt here: for instance, that my happiness has a sad face, so sad that for years I took it for my unhappiness and drove it away.  But Paris remains for me still an unresolved harmony.  It is the only city which I can personify.  London I know too well, and the others I do not love enough.  Paris I encounter, but as one encounters a loved one, in the end and dumbly, and can scarcely speak a word.  Alors, Paris, qu'est-ce que tu dis, toi?  Paris, dis-moi ce que j'aime.  But there is no reply, only the sad echo from crumbling walls, Paris."
- Under the Net

Dans le Bureau
I teeter on the edge of an abyss
My worlds, my words, are telling and are true
Quick-painted, light, and tinged with bitter bliss
Wrapped coils circle round my self and you -

You strangely stir, and file for disaster
Beyond the brink of bright bespattered blue
Beyond the known, approach the throne, my Master
Creating ken from what we thought was through.

Within my box I write, in sudden snatches -
They'll catch me not; excelling as I hide
The buried flame, I'll tame,
And tame it faster,
For all the hurts that chink away my pride.
(What's that, inside?)

Bestride the subtle edge, I barely balance
Slight shift could send me swift into the brink

This tight, taut line is all that's mine -
But I was made to dance, and not to sink.

(What then, you think?)

- LC
5 Comments
Joey
10/31/2011 09:13:55 am

These are beautiful. Who wrote them?

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Adam F.
10/31/2011 12:02:13 pm

Paris sounds nice this time of year...
I'm struggling to make sense of the relation between the first quote and your lovely poem. Perhaps I'm just not thinking creatively today. Is the poem supposed to be a response inspired by Paris?

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Conor
11/3/2011 11:38:06 am

Joey, I think the LC refers to Lilian Civantos. As always, Lily, your poetry is beautiful. I remember learning in Fallon's class how almost all poetry is about poetry and that's what I see in your poem. "Within my box I write" - is this stanza about your poetic writing or am I misinterpreting it?

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Joey
11/4/2011 08:16:32 am

Touche, Conor. I think because the first part was a quote I kind of assumed the second part was a quote, too. Lilly, take it as a compliment, because I thought the poem was written by a professional poet. But I should have recognized your distinctive style. I guess I wasn't paying very close attention.

The more I read this poem, the more I like it. The only thing snagging me is the pronouns - if everything said was being said about one "I," it would make more sense to me, but there is an interplay between an "I" and a "you" that I can't quite bring into focus.

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Lillian
11/5/2011 03:08:39 am

OK - I find it hard to comment on my own poems, but I'll give it a shot. Thanks very much for your kind comments, everyone!

There is a lot going on here. For one, "dans le bureau" in French means "in the office".

I occasionally jot bits of poems while sitting in my cubicle, and this post began to take shape from my feelings about work/office life. As I said, there is a lot going on.

Adam, some links between the poem and the quote: It is small but, the sentiment, "Certain things indeed I have learnt here: for instance, that my happiness has a sad face, so sad that for years I took it for my unhappiness and drove it away" is a sentiment that I really identified with when I read this book (by Iris Murdoch, Joey). The phrase "bitter bliss" captures that and explains, to some extent, why my poems are usually much sadder than I am in person (something people often comment on). So yes, Conor, parts of this are about my writing.

Too, the feeling that "There is a question which only I can ask and which only Paris can answer; but this question is something which I have never yet been able to formulate" is one way that I feel about the world right now, and that I tried to convey here, especially with the last line -- there is a question I must ask and the world will answer, but I have not yet formulated it.

Then I slipped in a lot of little "inside jokes" to myself about my work life; my "box" is, at one level, my cubicle; "excelling," again at one level, refers to the excel sheets I use daily; "file," I don't need to explain; the "hurts" are a bit more complicated but are also about my workday - but "what's that, inside?" - my work is difficult, but its challenges reveal something worthwhile about myself and my world.

This is also sort of a response to where many of us are right now as we discern our futures, and a slight link to my poem "Since PLS," where I said that "those non-cave-dwellers sometimes sink into normalcy" and here I want to combat that - even within an office world, we were all "made to dance, and not to sink". I guess that even ties a bit to my post about T.S. Eliot in "Discussions".

Hopefully that helps a bit, again there are still other things going on (the "you," the Master who creates new knowledge from what we thought was through) but the fun's all gone if I interpret the whole thing for you!

Thank you for commenting, I really appreciate it. =)

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