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The Christmas


Aleksandra

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Aleksandra

Now they have invited themselves

to eat in the embrace of the Holy Day.

A piano and violin are dancing

with the sounds of their voices.

A little me, muted for the sake of the sin,

makes dough out of salty tears.

I'll eat when they rest for the night.

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The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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Now they have invited themselves

to eat in the embrace of the Holy Day.

A piano and violin are dancing

with the sounds of their voices.

A little me, muted for the sake of the sin,

makes dough out of salty tears.

I'll eat when they rest for the night.

 

Interesting poem, Alek. It invites me to find out who "they" are. Christmas is usually a happy time for most people (except for the little match girl) but this one sounds dark to the narrator. You always have fresh, sharp imagery in your poems. I like "makes dough out of salty tears", for some reason though I thought of making drink out of salty tears. The last three lines are very deep, strong.

 

Cheers,

 

Lake

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The last three lines are effective because it was not expected in a poem with this title. Nice, Sandra.

"Words are not things, and yet they are not non-things either." - Ann Lauterbach

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The gravity of this poem is justified, but I wonder how your background influences you to phrase the simpler notions/things differently than I would expect. I amat a loss to how exactly visualize "the embrace of the Holy Day", "embrace" being the Latinate equivalent for Anglo-Saxon "hug". And, unless you are talking about a very definite "one sin", (one we all know), the definite article is not normal.

 

All that has nothing to do with my enjoyment of a sharp, warm and incisive reflection. I am visualizing you as a childe, face somewhat dusty, crying and rubbing your eyes to make that dough.

 

Now they have invited themselves

to eat in the embrace of the Holy Day.

A piano and violin are dancing

with the sounds of their voices.

A little me, muted for the sake of the sin,

makes dough out of salty tears.

I'll eat when they rest for the night.

Edited by waxwings
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Larsen M. Callirhoe

i understand the passion. you crying symbolyzes you want a different fate perhaps. i see that line as the ultimate depth of the poem. i see the depth of the salty tears as wisdom gasined in life. why does god make it so hard when everything is so easy except for living the actual pain of life despite all the litle joys of life.

 

victor

Larsen M. Callirhoe

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I love this powerful, distressing poem, Alek. To me it's quite clear. You watch from the sidelines, like someone watching in from the outside, as the others partake in a family moment. You are hidden, "muted," "for the sake of the sin." Why? You must be. Perhaps one of the others whom you watch is complicit in your sin. This part is inspired:

 

A little me, muted for the sake of the sin,

makes dough out of salty tears.

I'll eat when they rest for the night.

The Christmas reminds me a lot of my own poem JANUARY. The style, length, and sentiment are the same.

 

Tony

Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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Aleksandra

Lake, Joel, waxwings, Victor, and Tony, thank you a lot for your nice replies.

Tony, I am glad that this poem, reminded you on yours January. I read it just now, and I agree with you. I am glad that we are close in style in at least one poem, for first time :).

 

Glad you like the poem. Thanks.

 

Aleksandra

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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goldenlangur

Hi Aleksandra,

 

Your poem reminds me of Eliot's words that a reader should be able to appreciate the tone and music of a poem before its meaning. Your poem does exactly that with some defteness. It presents a series of images and their associations and invites the reader to make of these or take from these what they can. The strength lies in the covert allusions and possible readings which stretch the bounds of a reader's expectations and world.

 

Like the piano and violin playing in the background to the festivities the little me too is on the edge of the scene and outside the relationships being renewed and affirmed. I particularly love the turn in

 

makes dough out of salty tears

 

Thank you. Your poem moves in ways inexpressible.

goldenlangur

 

 

Even a single enemy is too many and a thousand friends too few - Bhutanese saying.

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Nice work Aleks- The sin, to me is the question- The little is you as a child being punished for some misdeed- as the adults party you are quiet and silently long to be with the visitors but no you are consigned for your sin to make food and be apart from the day and the festivities...

 

It could be seen as a fantastic metaphor for original sin the sin which Christ was supposed to release us from but always as Kafka documents so well we are eternally returned to that place of fault and are left crying outside the warmth of paradise...

 

Well written, and really a delight...

 

Excellent Work!

 

DC&J

Gate(less.thumb.png.dc23b19d2478d37a9f6fcdc563973026.pnghttps://conjurd.substack.com/welcome Come on over and check out my poetry substack y'all;-)

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  • 2 weeks later...
Aleksandra
Hi Aleksandra,

 

Your poem reminds me of Eliot's words that a reader should be able to appreciate the tone and music of a poem before its meaning. Your poem does exactly that with some defteness. It presents a series of images and their associations and invites the reader to make of these or take from these what they can. The strength lies in the covert allusions and possible readings which stretch the bounds of a reader's expectations and world.

 

Like the piano and violin playing in the background to the festivities the little me too is on the edge of the scene and outside the relationships being renewed and affirmed. I particularly love the turn in

 

makes dough out of salty tears

 

Thank you. Your poem moves in ways inexpressible.

 

Thank you so much, goldenlangur. The words of Eliot, that you presented means a lot to me, and that is what I am looking for from a poem. I am most happy if you felt that in my poem.

 

Thank you for your comment. Appreciated, as always.

 

Aleksandra

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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Aleksandra
Nice work Aleks- The sin, to me is the question- The little is you as a child being punished for some misdeed- as the adults party you are quiet and silently long to be with the visitors but no you are consigned for your sin to make food and be apart from the day and the festivities...

 

It could be seen as a fantastic metaphor for original sin the sin which Christ was supposed to release us from but always as Kafka documents so well we are eternally returned to that place of fault and are left crying outside the warmth of paradise...

 

Well written, and really a delight...

 

Excellent Work!

 

DC&J

 

You scared me, Juris, with your way of reading the poem :). It really could have that explanation. Sometimes we, as grown also, know how to punish ourselves.

 

Thanks for your nice comment.

 

Aleksandra

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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  • 1 month later...
Larsen M. Callirhoe

Aleks and Tony and everyone. take sin and change it to insinuation. just been thinking. Judas Iscarot's act of betrayel. i amin love with you poems aleks. what troubles me is you wrote something that fascinates me. we have kindred hearts my friend. my tears flow like a river also. proverbs 8:1 Doth not wisdon cry. Or is that Doth not Sophia the Holy Spirit cry. For the sake of her children.

Larsen M. Callirhoe

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Thank you, Vic for coming for coming back to this poem. It's my pleasure that you love my poems. I am happy to see you all around here. Keep posting my friend.

 

Aleksandra

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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