It's official! I'm unemployed (& writing poems)

I am now exactly what my Mother feared I would become with a Bachelor's Degree in English: unemployed and writing poetry. I must admit, though, I'm loving it!

Friday afternoon I processed all the paperwork to lay off two other employees and myself. Yes, that's right, I laid myself off. Story of my life, though, isn't it? It was quite sad (the layoff, not my life, that is going fairly well) but also a relief. We've been "preparing" for this to happen for over a year. My boss (who was hired in April of 2005) and then became the Vice President of Fabricated Products (seriously, I couldn't make that up) is rumored to have said recently that when he came on board he didn't think it would take this long to close the place. Obviously, I don't know for sure if he said this, since it is only hearsay, however, it still burned me up a bit. It made me feel that no matter how well I did there was nothing I could do to change the outcome. Reminds me of fate or divine prophecy. I don't believe in that crap either. I am glad I did my best at the job; to have done anything less would have belittled me as a person. No regrets. Just fond memories of an institution in the community of Northampton/Florence. What made me feel really good was donating all the historical items I found while cleaning out the place to the Northampton Historical Society rather than throwing them away as my corporate office would have me do.

After my lay off on Friday, I spent a weekend in Northampton (and Brattleboro) shoe shopping, getting my haircut and writing poetry. One of those activities is a bit strange for me. But I can take comfort in the fact that the shoes I bought were two pairs of sneakers and some comfy but business-like shoes I had been searching for for months. Just now I was trying to think of what type of black shoe it was, but I am so not into that crap that all I could think of was "shoes". (Yes, I'm a brilliant wordsmith, I mustn't forget that!)

I will get to the five so-so poems shortly. First, I just have to share a bit of my weirdness with you all. This morning I awoke with Alanis Morissette's song "Ironic" stuck in my head. And I was mocking it since most of the things she lists aren't ironic, just unfortunate. I was re-writing them in my head to make them ironic, but the best I came up with was "meeting the man of your dreams/and fucking his beautiful wife". That might qualify as ironic, depending on the order in which the events occur.

Okay, we've established that I am odd. Now some poetry.

(in order of when they were written on 7/22/07, for better or for worse)

#1

I am not
a candle in the wind
nor am I
a funeral pyre
I am
the smoldering ember
the remnant of the fire

I still burn
and may again be bright
for now I use
my waning strength
as fuel while out of sight

nothing lasts longer
than burning slow
simply to survive
and through
such patience
energy builds
allowing me to thrive

ltv


#2

Emily watches over me
in meter and in rhyme
I can hear emboldened truths
whispered over time
some say she was an innocent
a child afraid of life
but wisdom roars in tiny poems
borne from internal strife
and those of us who see the world
through broken, weary eyes
understand the girl in white
we see through that disguise

ltv

#3

I am writing crap today
but at least I have a lot
perhaps in all this fecal mess
a gem of sorts I'll spot

ltv

(especially apt due to my recent unpleasantness)


#4

people always
came to her
she heard her
mother say
when she was young
she couldn't keep
anyone away

she also never
sought them out
the reprieve was
always savored
solitude is a rare delight
when a child's wit is favored

now older some
and on her own
this girl is
lacking skill
but soon with wisdom
and with time
her life she
soon will fill

ltv


#5

I am an echo
of myself
a ripple
on the lake
the part of me
that's visible
impossible
to take

this strength
of voice
protected like
the stone safe
in the muck
reaching out
beyond my form
in search of
better luck

ltv

I still don't like the ending here. It sounds too trite, but I couldn't think of a better word/image to rhyme with "silt". Perhaps this:

the stone safe
in the silt
reaching out
beyond my form
in search of
Scottish kilts
(you see my dilemma)

or maybe this:

the stone safe
in the mud
reaching out
beyond my form
in search of
a great big thud


Okay, I think I need to stop now. I'll stick with this first one.