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Aadea — I am delighted
Published: 2010-01-31 21:36:41 +0000 UTC; Views: 491; Favourites: 11; Downloads: 2
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to hear that you have found yourselfamist the gunslinging and dead fields.
In your last bed I was crying.
Young girls will tell you that it is beautiful
to buy new shoes and dance in long ways forward.
I will argue
with my hips
threaten to leave them should they fail me again.
Lady murmurs,
sideways is for curious.
She says it to her feet like she is disspointed or embarassed
or both.
I feel oddly rotten.
As if I could reach out and sob into each one of her toes.
I want to tell her 'I am sorry'.
I am sorry you've been out here so long, please come inside.
But I am rotten and my flesh is soft and she stands up and is gone.
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Comments: 7
"As if I could reach out and sob into each one of her toes."
weird imagery, yo. into it.
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I will attempt an interpretation of this poem.
The writer is delighted to hear that someone has found themselves in a bad sucky place. But in the last bed that that someone slept, the writer was crying.
Young girls think nice shoes and dancing is beautiful, as it is. But the writer disagrees, showing her disagreement with her hips, which I would suppose is a figurative dance detailing the folly of those young girls.
A lady mutters to herself her disdain for her unsightly feet. The writer feels unexplainably bad, wanting to console the lady with ugly feet, wanting to tell her that she's sorry for having had allowed the lady to wait outside instead of inviting her in sooner. Who she is or why she was outside waiting or what she was there for is unknown to me. And... what?
The lady stands up, so I guess she was sitting outside a doorstep, and she leaves. And the writer feels guilty.
And who says I don't understand poetry. Hah!
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That's a very literal translation... I went with the pictures that formed in my head when I read it, and this is what I got
The woman speaking has lost another lover; to the gunslinging and dead fields...he's not coming back. The relationship is over.
The young girls that like to dance, they're a picture for the flirty sort who live for the moment of romance, they dance in long ways forward...so the author's talking about the little pretenses one puts up on a first date, that carry over to a second date, where there are more white lies, and the long term leads to a whole cacaphony of little fibs at the long-term.
But the writer can't be like that; she has to show herself as who she is; she will argue with her hips, and threaten to abandon them if they betray her - it's long-term principle over short-term folly.
The woman she catches mumbling sideways, that's HER. A sideways glance at a little piece of herself who half-wishes she could go back, and put on the dancing shoes and pretend, just for a little while, just for another few moments with the lover who's gone. She empathises with her, she's sorry she's hurting, but. She won't have it. She's saying she longs for him, but she will have him on her terms, or not at all. And she's sorry about that, she's sorry she can't pretend, even for a little while, just to enjoy the dance...
Of course, I came back and read it again and got a slighly different view, but. I like this sense of it best.
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Beautiful interpretation there. There are people who believe that poetry can be interpreted different ways. I am not one of those people. I believe poetry has one meaning and that is the meaning intended by the poet. I'm glad someone responded with an interpretation of their own, because that was my only intent, for help, because I have trouble deciphering Seuss. There are also some people who believe that artists should not explain their work, and that by doing so, they take some intangible aspect away from them. Again, I am not one of those people. I think undecipherable art is many times superfluous. Sort of goes along the idea of "happiness only real when shared (Into The Wild)" and "Life's for Sharing (LG phones)" and trees falling in empty forests and narcissistic isolationists. Anyway, that was wildly off-topic.
Perhaps the artist might want to clarify this piece's meaning, possibly in a subtle way, possibly just a clue, possibly not at all. I hate myself too violently.
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I agree, though, I think it's up to the artist. There are poets who need no interpretation, the poem states clearly what they invision and there's no puzzle to be solved. There are artists who put out pictures for the World to see and are disgruntled only when noone gathers from their words the meaning they carefully intended. And there are others who put out abstractions and like to watch what happens. I read an article once that said Seal never wanted his lyrics printed, because he offered the song, and the words, to the world and wanted those that received it to gather from it what they will.
I am an enthusiast of all, just so long as it's done well. And, I'm a fan of this particular poet; methinks she offers up words worth savoring...
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