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Poetry Magnum Opus

Half-Open Door


JoelJosol

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I do not know what to expect

standing before this old house.

The swirling dust, litte rocks,

and scattered leaves of my memory

are no longer here.

 

The breeze is still cold,

on what is now a paved road,

clean but stiff like your eyes,

but your welcome is only for the pet dog

returning to the gate.

 

Soon, it is going to rain

and I am still here looking at you.

I can still see some trees left

from my childhood but without fruit.

It appears I am out of season.

 

The breeze has gotten stronger,

slapping me outright,

as if demanding why I had not moved on

instead of lingering by

your still half-open door.

 

It's alright. I will leave,

you can close the door.

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

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I don't know what to say, Joel. But I can definitely feel it, such a bleak and depressing feel. These lines are piercing:

 

clean but stiff like your eyes,

uneasy to welcome me, not even

like a pet dog entering the gate.

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Hauting, Joel. I sense an inability to move on despite what is said in the couplet. These lines are especially moving:

Soon, it is going to rain ...

 

It appears I am out of season.

The former reinforces the mood, while the latter is saturated with sadness.

 

Tony

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

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I love to write about melancholy. I'm glad I was successful getting it across. Thanks for the feedback Lake and Tony.

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

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And a solid job you have done, writing of melancholy. I am awake at 6 am the coffee is brewing, there is salt on my face from dreams of loss and the violations of my childhood home, in this liminal state, your poem is just perfect, it clearly captures the feel of old gardens in disarray, and is all the more beautiful for that....

 

Dr. Con

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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Aleksandra

Wonderful poem Joel. I agree with all what is said from others. Melancholic, moving, poem what captures...

Soon, it is going to rain

and I am still here looking at you.

I can still see some trees left

from my childhood but without fruit.

It appears I am out of season.

 

There I see wonderful metaphorical power Joel. It's amazing how this poem is written.

 

One of your best I think.

 

I loved this poem.

 

Aleksandra

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

History of Macedonia

 

 

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goldenlangur

Hello JoelJosol,

 

 

This poem has so many poignant moments as the poet steps back into the past on a visit to an old place.

 

There's a mellowness in the tone as the poet switches between what he remembers and what he finds. You convey well how strange something familiar becomes over time and the sadness that comes with this. I find this stanza particularly moving and wonder if the impact of your poem would be greater if you ended on this note:

 

 

JoelJosol wrote:

 

The breeze has gotten stronger,

slapping me outright,

as if demanding why I had not moved on

instead of lingering by

your still half-open door.

 

 

The sudden introduction of you in the closing lines threw me a bit and I could not find the link between the poet's thoughts and feelings in the rest of the poem with the you.

 

 

As ever, please do feel free to ignore my interpretation and suggestion as you see fit.

 

 

 

 

 

goldenlangur

goldenlangur

 

 

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

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I really liked this first stanza most:

 

I do not know what to expect

standing before this old house.

The swirling dust, litte rocks,

and scattered leaves of my memory

are no longer here.

 

I love that we SEE the scattered leaves and dust and signs of emptiness or perhaps 'unwelcome' about- but its clear to us that its not the stuff of our memory- that there were leaves and dust in our memory too, but not THESE leaves and not THIS dust ... and so, the half-open door is clear to us right from the start!

 

and also,

Soon, it is going to rain

and I am still here looking at you.

I can still see some trees left

from my childhood but without fruit.

It appears I am out of season.

 

is positively brilliant!

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Thanks for the helpful feedback DrC, Aleks, GL, and rumisong.

 

GL, you brought up a weak point in the poem. I am trying to find a solution meanwhile.

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

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GL, I did introduce the 'you' in 'your welcome' and 'your still half-open door'. Unless it was not enough preparation, I should really re-think the ending couplet.

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

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goldenlangur

Apologies JoelJosol for my misreading:

 

JoelJosol wrote:

 

GL, I did introduce the 'you' in 'your welcome' and 'your still half-open door'. Unless it was not enough preparation, I should really re-think the ending couplet.

 

 

The you, your welcome and your still half-open door are certainly adequate references. I mistakenly read these in relation to the old house - addressing the old house as it were and did not connect it as a reference to someone.

 

 

Thank you for returning with your thoughts and please do accept my apologies for the angle I took.

 

 

goldenlangur

goldenlangur

 

 

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

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