This Poem was Submitted By: Jillian K Sorenson On Date: 2005-10-08 20:35:11 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
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Morning Coffee in Mid-June The cough of a small child
invigorates me, fills me
with secret pleasure.
The pale little one stands near
the protective mother and coughs,
his whole body shaking with the effort,
as if he was caught in a blizzard,
yet it is mid-June, and sunny.
I watch him die, a little more
with each breath, with each second.
All of us must die sometime, just
some of us sooner than others.
I drink in his soul with my
morning coffee. I feel it dripping
warmly into my stomach, but some
goes wrongly, choking me, filling my
lungs with liquid. Now I know
his anguish. It is too late.
For a moment, he looks relieved, but
now I must give it back.
It is too late to remedy.
We all must die sometime. |
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Copyright © October 2005 Jillian K Sorenson
Additional Notes:
Much more morose than most of my poetry, I think because this is a piece at least 10 years old (when I was a total goth girl in high school). Anti-depressants and extensive therapy mostly eradicated that side of myself. :) I believe I meant it to be in the perspective of Death himself...as if Death was sitting around drinking coffee, but who knows - I was one scary teenager. Not sure why I hadn't submitted it before, just found it the other day tucked behind a drawer.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Terrye Godown On Date: 2005-10-27 22:22:19
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Whoa Jillian, yer right - reflects a rather unwholesome tendency to dwell on gloomy matters, but having said that, your so called "goth" side back then seemed to posess an uncanny ability to quickly penetrate a reader's mind like... well.. let's say, an image of one driving a cold metal stake through a vampire's heart. That takes some talent I'd say, because in writing this you've managed to disconnect from the safety of metaphors or the typical soulful styles, and very effectively write from a perspective that can't help but stir up some morbid apprehensions!
I guess I'm dating myself, but "goth" was unheard of in my era, you were either collegiate, a hippy or a greaser. Not sure what I was.. never could seem to blend in with any one inparticular as I had friends in all of those circles, I guess in retrospect I'd haveta tag myself a "collippy". I loved my frayed jeans and long straight, streaked hair, but I never could give up my make-up or deny my armpits of a razor.
Yeah, the piece is pretty chilly and desensitizing, but your choices of words really fit well in the context. They sweep the reader up into a sort of cold, voyeuristic state of mind, then just as abruptly, end it all with that matter-of-fact sigh: "we all must die someday".
I'm sure you've lightened up quite a bit after all these years! A very unsettling submission!
Cheerz!
Terrye
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mary J Coffman On Date: 2005-10-22 08:11:24
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Jillian,
This is so full of strong raw emotion, and vivid imagery, to feed hungry minds. My two faves are as follows...
The cough of a small child
invigorates me, fills me
with secret pleasure.
Not only can I 'see' the little tyke struggling for breath, it gives a clear sense of where the mindset of the person portrayed in this resides. It gives it such a "dark" atmosphere from the very beginning! I'm a big fan of dark-writes, too. *grin* My own writing started that way, as a kind of therapy...to "vent" the feelings bottled up inside. I "see" that in this poem. You have incorporated such strong emotion in this from line one. Powerful start to a great peice.
I drink in his soul with my
morning coffee. I feel it dripping
warmly into my stomach, but some
goes wrongly, choking me, filling my
lungs with liquid. Now I know
his anguish. It is too late.
LOVE the shift in emotions here! This starts with such great feelings of satifaction "...drink in his soul...," "...dripping warmly into..." - all soothing words to "soften" the darkness. Thenm BAM! It sharply shifts to anxiety and fear. "...choking..," "...anguish...," and, finally: "...it is too late..." The shift comes at a very quick pace, as well, adding to its effectiveness nicely. The end is wonderful, and pulls the reader right back out of the chaos, leaving one pondering when their time will come. Well done. Thanks for sharing this. I so enjoyed reading it.
As always,
Mary
This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2005-10-21 14:04:39
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Jillian,
This is an amazing piece and yes it is morose but most of all I am stunned that you wrote it ten years ago!
The wording is very mature and I would not have guessed it came from the pen of a teenager. As I was reading I was certain you were speaking of a child and I hoped against hope that the child was not yours. I was glad you wrote the additional comments because it does put the entire piece in prospective for me. I know that depression is rampant in our teenagers. I never had that problem and niether did any of my children...well that I know of that is. The teens of today live in a world that is way too fast and they are exposed to adult situations way before they are ready to cope with them. This is a chilling but compelling piece and it displays your talent as a poet. I am glad you found it and also I am glad I was able to read it and comment. Very well done!
Blessings....Marilyn
This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-10-12 12:24:24
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
To go along with Goth it's totally black and morose. I am way surprised that Goth (at least
where I live) is still flourishing. As a psychiatric Nurse I found these patiens who professed
Goth to be deeply disturbed (as you admit to), and I'm glad to hear that you have recovered. This
piece starts that a dying child's cough fills you with pleasure...that is unbelievable to know
that's what you were feeling at that time. It is evil.
I drink in his soul with my
morning coffee. I feel it dripping
warmly into my stomach, but some.........perhaps "something goes wrong"
goes wrongly, choking me, filling my
lungs with liquid. Now I know
his anguish. It is too late.
For a moment, he looks relieved, but
now I must give it back.................what?
It is too late to remedy.
We all must die sometime................yet you thought his death okay?
Wow...I don't know what else to say Jillian. To reveal yourself to others on this site is like
group therapy I guess for you. Thanks for exposing yourself to others. That takes courage.
Good luck in your continued recovery.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2005-10-08 22:59:26
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Jillian,
Yes, very unusual and very dark. Nicely structured, graphic verbiage, good flow to this offering. While you might not understand where you could have been coming from at that time I believe you have penned a piece that could befit many a thought from many a person, though, I would choose also to believe it were death it's self watching and waiting. The momentary pause/reprieve for the child as the viewer chokes and then understands breifly the child's pain almost gives homage to karma. Thank you for trusting in us, your fellow poets to share this with us, not often do we share our darkest thoughts.
Always,
Lora
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