Forgetting/Letting Go

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Forgetting/Letting go

Before letting go,
forego letting be–

at least for me,
that’s how it had
to be.

I needed to knead
what had gone
before–
I could not let it alone,
alone.

Forlorn, I foraged for a lore, some tale
that I could wag,
some tale that would make me
a teller (taller),
a wagger (wage-earner)
a mover and shaker
and not
the moved-out, shaken–

I told this tale
as my own bedtime story,
until I just didn’t
anymore,
until–it seems to me now–
I arched my neck back
and saw through the window at my bed’s head,
all those shines
the glass reflected, genuflecting
to the laws
of perspective,
bright rounds that outglowed the moon, though but
the disks of desk lamp no bigger
than my fist–
mere street lights,
red, green, white–
no bigger than
my head but seeming more monumental
than even dwarf stars–

and as my eyes noosed
those outsized glares, some grip loosened
in my brain–

Of course, it helped
that you also lay beside me
your skin too glowing,
but not glass.

*******************************

Another drafty poem.  (People make fun of my term, but when something is fresh off the brain press with relatively little re-writing, the word “draft” feels right to me.)   This one owes a debt to the wonderful writer, Kerry O’Connor, who posts at Skywriting and Skylover, for a poem she has called “Gotta Go” in which she talks about the difficulties of forgetting letting go. ”

The pictures are from NYC, taken the other night.  In both cases, the moon is the smaller orb in the top left.

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Explore posts in the same categories: New York City, poetry, Uncategorized

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8 Comments on “Forgetting/Letting Go”


  1. I needed to knead
    what had gone
    before–
    I could not let it alone,
    alone…I’ve done much kneading in my time. Letting go is an ongoing lesson for me. So much in your drafty poem. 🙂

  2. brian miller Says:

    in the letting go of anything there is a mourning…
    there is a pondering & a passing over…if we really are
    going to let it go.

  3. Polly Says:

    I love the final stanza – beautiful k.

  4. hedgewitch Says:

    This is just one tumbling word-bounce after another, full of that building tension you get from the stream of consciousness style, but seeming a bit more disciplined and structured, possibly from the rhyme and assonance, or just possibly from its own innate coherence. I especially loved this image of what the speaker desires to be:
    ‘..a mover and shaker
    and not
    the moved-out, shaken–..’

    Shaken, not stirred, indeed. Just gorgeous pics as well, btw. (I also wonder why the moon is always smaller in the camera’s eye than it is in mine?) A very cool piece, k–and I will make no snide remarks about ‘drafts.’ ;_)

    • ManicDdaily Says:

      I do not know why the moon does that in photos–or at least my iPhone photos- I have another couple that didn’t go with the poem particularly but may post as they show the park and the moon and this new extremely tall building on 57th Street. (I’m sure no one out of the City is aware of it, but it’s caused a lot of controversy here.)

      On the draft front, I’ve just decided not to worry so much about coherence–I don’t want to put something up too soon, but there are some poems that will likely only go so far because the basic idea is, perhaps, a bit trivial or a bit of a goof–and yet something might be made of the. So, I guess this is one of those–just liking the sounds of the words–thanks so much, as always, for your kindness and support–k.

      On Thu, Feb 5, 2015 at 10:16 AM, ManicDDaily wrote:

      >


  5. Ah, yes, well… I tended to require the kneading before needing to let go. Now I open my arms and release. Gripping has caused to mage damage, too much pain. Finally, I learned. Freedom.


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