This Poem was Submitted By: Ellen K Lewis On Date: 2012-03-05 02:58:18 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!
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Copyright © March 2012 Ellen K Lewis
There once was a lady who lived all alone
she spent her time drawing and trying to write poems.
Upon doctors orders she stayed in the house
and never went out alone.
She'd been having seizures; they were out of control
the option was surgery and so it was done
would life be better without her right brain?
she'd be spending long months in a recovery hospital
learning again the names and the faces
family and friends and familiar places.
Every day she sees a stranger now
when she looks into the mirror
if only there was one alive, who had been there those months with her.
If only her husband hadnt strayed
he saw the bills and he left that day
three children and no one leading the way.
she watched as she saw them each slipping away
It doesnt matter anymore, which way is left or right
all that is important now
is that she doesnt stray out into the night.
Yes, there once was a lady who didnt know
she couldnt think straight without her temporal lobe.
So she stayed in her house, cozy and quiet
drawing from memory and trying to write poems.
I didnt get to vote. I tried the link you posted.
I tried to contact Chris but dont know my ISP address or my pop addy.. and it is required if you use the link on the site. So....
~Congratulations to all the winners~
This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2012-04-02 16:40:53
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.70000
Thank you for sharing with us. I am quite sad about all of the matters you must deal with. The weight probably outdistances the actual difficulties.
Of the voting, I know I have often had to circumvent voting difficulties and it is an ongoing problem at times. The vote is the soul of the poet here. I wish it had worked as it should.
Once again, the verse was poignant and touching. I wish you well and will keep you in my thoughts.
This Poem was Critiqued By: DeniMari Z. On Date: 2012-03-15 15:50:02
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
I'm sorry you didn't get to vote Ellen but I've had glitches with voting before too and have had to write each individual poem down and keep it on hand for verification and then wait and vote on the 5th or 6th day of each new month. That way my voting power did make a difference.
My heart goes out to you for having the courage to write something so personal yet in a way others' will be able to relate to. I depend on my human emotions to write poetry as well as understand it. We never know from one day to the next what life will bring to us and if it brings tragedy, pain, or for others to loose interest in us; we have lost but we have also gained strength, courage, and intestinal fortitude knowing that we did not cause the events in our lives but are rising above them and facing each one daily in hopes of becoming even a part of who we were before these events took place. Five years ago my life was a much better life to me.
Today I look back at that time and realize that almost everyone I interacted with then is no longer a part of my daily life. I did not leave them they chose to walk away from my "painful" life event and I don't think of them anymore because you see they've been replaced with people who really do care - and that to me is a blessing.
Very nicely written -
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2012-03-08 18:32:43
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
So tough it's been for you, my goodness.
I'm so sorry to hear everyone left. Too difficult to face for them but how much much more for you.
Nobody realizes 'enough' to do different.
Writing helps a lot so do not stop.
We need a reason to wake up each day.
And that is where your strength comes in.
Day upon day, pull the plow.
eep on my dear,
This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2012-03-08 12:30:11
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 3.00000
I would presume this applies personally to someone which would make it very touching, emotionally so as well.
In such a case the poetic impact overcomes questions of style, technique, form...it is a gift direct from the mind and heart. MORE than poetry, more than message...yes, touching in the most acute of ways.
As a hope and encouragement, I would like to offer, in the most self-effacing of ways, two articles I wrote on
how powerful healing (in such cases as yours) can be in the presence of a well-directed power of expectation.
They are not long and tedious and I hope they stir more possibility into your life than you had before.
Always, my deepest concerns, JCH
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