This Poem was Submitted By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-09-09 11:07:37 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Unexpectedly Stone

I'm so unexpectedly stone. And the thing is no one knows. No one will ever know-- most emotions live in my bones. Until your words or a poem moves me and tears come spilling to the fringes of my lower lids. I'm so surprisingly alone.  And the thing is no one knows. No one will ever know-- except when I stop on my road, and nothing more comes spilling to the bounds of my life. I'm so completely unknown. And the thing is no one knows. No one will ever know-- even you, reading this now, because you won’t believe what comes spilling to the end of this poem.

Copyright © September 2005 Joanne M Uppendahl

Additional Notes:
from my Blue Monday collection


This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2005-10-06 20:42:49
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
I like the rhyming long "o" in each stanza. Red (spilling)


This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2005-10-05 02:56:36
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
And in the darkness shinnieth the Everlasting Light and no one knows until they have come to terms with the love, peace, and joy found in our God........Blue Monday collection, sounds very deep and so sad, I am sure many will be able to associate with this piece poet, the structure is sound, easy to read, follow, finding so much within each line. Must be horrid not to have any feelings and just feel like stone, until those tears come pouring out, tears are the mirror of your soul and only you are able to reflect the beauty within. Life has a way of dealing all kinds of hands and it is up to each of us to take what we have been given, give praise and glory to God for it, even the things we consider bad and horrid, the losses we have sustained, the pain and the sorrow and go from there. For each day is a gift to us, for each person we meet, love, trust, and yes, lose to death has its purpose. I know my own mind still cannot understand that mom is no longer here in Tully for she will always live within my heart. I pray your relief came after writing this one my friend, I know your heart still aches even though some days are better then others and as a mother I do not envy you for the road you have travelled has been painful........a parents greatest fear is to lose a child, and you have walked that walk, you have cried those tears, you have a broken heart and only you and God can heal it......you are not unknown , you are someone's wife, you are a mother, a grandmother, you are a friend, you are a poet filled with so much to give to the world and the world waits......so shine my friend, take those Monday Blues and wipe away your tears, your emotions and your fears. Life awaits you, just take and open the door, breathe in the fresh air and go with it. Well I am ranting again, I did enjoy this piece even with all of its sadness for I believe in miracles and you are one in the making. Thanks for reading this response, you need not grade me, I am so far off any mark, I just wanted to say hello, missed you too. Take good care and enjoy the fall. God Bless, Claire
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-10-01 16:45:40
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.90323
Joann, This is also about being authentic. No one knows who you really are...........least of all yourself. When we don't show ourselves to anyone, we are surprised when somethings revealed. wow.......we didn't know either! We do have worth.. Poetry is great because we are allowed so much expressive freedom. It's our saving grace. We are so blessed! Our jobs on earth, is to know, and honor the life we were given. And that keeps us prety busy. Good job Another bigger hug Dellena
This Poem was Critiqued By: Troy D Skroch On Date: 2005-09-21 20:36:56
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Joanne, What do you call just liking the sound of something, that's not considered euphonic. Hmm. Don't know, but I like the sound of "unexpectedly stone". I just do. Maybe it's because of all of the time I've spent hiking on it or putting it on my fireplace, or maybe it has something to do with the fact that I sometimes shut down for hours and just stare at the ceiling or wall, thinking, thinking, thinking about all of the things I have to do or all of the things that I've done. I don't know, but I like the sound of it and I'm attracted to the stillness and sense of peace I get from the idea, an idea that could also be construed as tragic. I hear your voice as you read this poem. I like the repetition and the rhyme. I like the loneliness and the movement. It has a haunting quality that demands to be read, that can be heard at a soul level and resonates like a steel rain pounding the window pain on a grey day. And it breathes like static until the sun starts setting throwing color on a beach of clouds like the blanket you pull over your childhood fears. It's unsettling and beautiful and best saved for a "Blue Monday". T
This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2005-09-10 21:53:27
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Joanne, I as always I was not disappointed with this read. Unexpectedly Stone [inviting title] I'm so unexpectedly stone. And the thing is no one knows. No one will ever know-- most emotions live in my bones. Until your words or a poem moves me and tears come spilling to the fringes of my lower lids. [yes, we become stone, thought immune to all that happens about us, in complete control until the moment a line from a poem, a reframe from a song, a certain melody, whiff of a scent or the just the feel of the air or the rustle of leaves and the moisture appears, but no one sees and no one knows that part, no one is allowed that close] I'm so surprisingly alone. And the thing is no one knows. No one will ever know-- except when I stop on my road, and nothing more comes spilling to the bounds of my life. [this speaks so much for it’s self it is difficult to express in any other terms, alone, not empty or void but alone and as it is in some things that is the only way it can be, some times alone is all there is and some journeys we have to do that way but it does leave us so alone even with the voices all around, even when surrounded by friends and family for no one can truly feel what we feel and our path has to be walked alone, this perhaps is one of the most difficult things there is to try to explain to someone so that they really understand and understand without making a judgment call] I'm so completely unknown. And the thing is no one knows. No one will ever know-- even you, reading this now, because you won’t believe what comes spilling to the end of this poem. [ah, the fini’ of it all, the crux’s of self, no matter how hard one tries there will always be that part that one will not share, can not share, mustn’t share, the one part that is self, this saddens us for if only it were possible to completely share that which is self yet we know that until we mingle with the light that it will not come to pass, this was pre-ordained and the way it has to be.] Remember that even stone has wondrous properties and hold it’s own beauty. It has color, texture, strength that endures through out time and holds the stories of all that has gone on before it and comes after. On the surface the stone may look just like any other stone, pick it up, hold it, feel it’s coolness warm to touch, hear it’s song for all things have a song, just listen..it is of the cosmos, of all things created. My warmest always Lora
This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2005-09-10 15:51:30
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Joanne, I scanned my list to find a poem from your pen and found this gem. I call it that because it could have been written about me! Many years a go, when I worked for a physcian, he asked me if I was aware that I throw up an imaginary wall for protection when I feel a threat. I was unaware of that but then I paid more attention and he was right. That wall has gotten me through some troubling times in my life...times when I should have crumpled from the weight of their burden but did not. I'm so unexpectedly stone. and the thing is no one knows no one will ever know-- most emotions live in my bones...oh I do know how this feels..choking down feelings like acid in your throat making swallowing difficult. until your words or a poem moves me and tears come spilling to the fringes of my lower lids...............it doesn't take much for tears to form even when we steal ourselves against them. What is even worse is when a lump forms in your throat but the tears refuse to come and give you relief...that is what ulcers are made of. ....except when I stop on my road and nothing more comes spilling to the bounds of my life....................I feel such pathos in these words that they are almost unbearable...their meaning is not lost on me as I have felt them too. There have been times in my life when I couldn't wait for bed time so I could cry without anyone knowing...this happened mostly when my husband was so sick and I knew he would die. ...even you, reading this now, because you won't believe what comes spilling to the end of this poem.................yes I will...this piece has affected me profoundly, so much so that my heart feels heavy in my chest. Isn't it odd how two people, who live so far away from each other but who are so alike, can transcend that space with the words in a poem? Thank you for posting this lovely poem that is so full of yourself.....well done! Lots of hugs...Marilyn
This Poem was Critiqued By: Paul R Lindenmeyer On Date: 2005-09-09 21:01:05
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.66667
Joanne, wellp, this ones a duesey!! I can't say I enjoy the content matter, but the tone and pace are as usual, well done. The line breaks and internal rhyme schemes work, and the repetition causes a focus on the want to solve the quandry you present, ie. "No one will ever know--even you, reading this now." The feeling of being lost and immersed in depression rings thru this "Blue Monday" work. It is heart rendering and emotes such a sad side of the human spirit, but that is what the outlet of poetic posting is for, that is the sharing of pains and passions, hurts and happiness, unmitigated joys and grief always remembered. Perhaps in the sharing of these moments, as I've heard, the joy is doubled, and the grief is halved. It is my pleasure to share such heart rendered moments, and while I cannot "ever know" the particular pain, I can commiserate with loss and all it's trappings. The lost and hopelessness passes, and joy is never lost, just misplaced and waiting around the corner to be rediscovered. Faith always seems to serve the spirit well when involved in one of these "Dark Nights of the Soul". My wish is that you always keep it close to all you love. I have no doubts on the outcome, even if the here and now are bleak. Perhaps John of the Cross was right when he called "Faith, the marriage of God and the soul. The dark night in Gethsemane when all your friends have left, all about you seek for your downfall, and God is silent as the marriage is consumated." Always rang loud and clear to this bell freak. Sometimes the bells ring clearer than others. Must be old age and my declining ability to hear as good as I use to. Enjoyed the work, as always, Peace, Paul PS. Have gone up Rainier many times. Love the spring flowers, wondrous nature trails and fresh air. New climbing boots always called for eel skin on my heals and 2 pair of nylong foot socks below my woolies. It always kept the blisters at bay. You can get them at Lands End or any sporting goods store. If your on to the tip, I apologize for intruding. Enjoy the journey, always more enjoyable when the intent is a bit on the spiritual side. My best as always.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Gerard A Geiger On Date: 2005-09-09 13:23:15
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Dear Joanne; This poem is good, it is real, it comes from that unreachable spot surprizingly close to the surface in everyone, but too far under the skin to be observed without an psyche/emotion microscope. We all feel this way...even sleeping head to head... you are still 6-8 inches away....which, incidentally, is an infinite # of gradations away from Zero. The bottom line...the only thing we have in life is interaction with other humans....who can never really know us unless we tell them....and most don't have an attention span long enough to listen or remember....but we cannot give up on them... because WE are so important WE SHOULD be remembered, damn it! I like you poem, because we all have blue mondays...and we all should start blue monday collections... Thanks for sharing this on TPL.. Your fan and friend, Gerard
This Poem was Critiqued By: Latorial D. Faison On Date: 2005-09-09 13:15:51
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Joanne, I'd like to think that I know you just a little bit. What you reveal in this poem is what really makes all of us kindred spirits. I think there's a missing zodiac sign to which we writers all really belong. It would be something like "a stone" or a jewel, with many facets, much like what you reveal in this poem. What I sense in these lines is someone who knows that the world and everyone around doesn't have a clue. . . and when I say this, I mean "they don't really know us" just like you say. It amazes me that people, friends and family think they often know what can make us tick, but if they only knew what we felt inside or what we think in our minds. It's scary thinking that we can die, leave this world and no one might ever know the real person inside. This is why I write all that I write. My poetry often borders on the aggressive, angry, social reform type issues, but I love it. I think even my grandma's friends might be embarassed by some of the things I write, but I will not be muzzled because people are not ready to hear the real me. I encourage you to write on if this poem was written from a personal perspective. Get tougher and tougher and more brave in every word and every line. This is a soul stopping poem that will make all of us think about each other as well as ourselves and why it is we really exist in this natural and dying world. There is a reason . . . and it's really not for people to understand us all the time. They didn't and still don't understand Jesus, and He was perfect (smile). Great job Joanne. I hope I've given a little insight to what lies within. Latorial www.latorialfaison.com
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