Disingenuous Inverse Attempt
An entry into the Inverse Challenge which I dedicate to Cathy holmes
I can't write inverse poems
This I tell myself
But
I try
Willing the words to come
To make paradoxical sense
When read
Either way
The challenge seems insurmountable
Until the lines appear
It's not great
I can write inverse poems
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Foot Bindings
I asked my grandmother how she knew she'd fallen in love. I am not sure I ever did love him, she said. This was before I met my husband. I was naive, a naked spring, a raw nerve of a thing. That cannot ever be me, I knew. Sadness swept in gently like a Moscow thaw. It is no simple thing, looking into a woman's vast soul and seeing its foot bindings. Now, in Italy divorced with my skin singed off, when I say I don't love him mean: I have succeeded at feeling nothing most days and it mostly works. Do you want the comfort of Nothing? Do you want Nothing, too? Be warned: you'll never be free, even when you are nothing. Here is what doesn't work: Accepting the stages of grief. Talking about it. Sitting with the feeling. Missing him—no, the person you were when you believed in death do us part. Writing poetry. That, too. When I say I don't love him I mean: I feel capsized in an endless, starved tide. What sometimes works: selective memory. You must forget ripe tomatoes and his beard and feeling perfectly sheltered in a big blue world. Forget coffee in bed, laughter watching TV, blowing out the candles on the birthday cake and the quiet all-encompassing knowledge that you are chosen. Remember only how love turned to a banal everyday survival act, a trapeze act unsure whether he will catch you, how the warmth stagnated and became sour, remember the foot bindings and remember the resentment boiling in your veins as you stick it out for the kids. Six-hour Netflix binges help, too. A man's fingers tracing your spine. Frozen pizza at 2 a.m. Random trips to the museum just to stand near things that last a while. The realization that crying won’t change anything. Seeing that life is just a dream, and refusing to participate in your own suffering. Bite your fist. Walk on eggshells around joy. When I say I don't love him, I mean he didn’t break my heart, he just stopped touching it and it forgot how to beat right.
By Ella Bogdanovaabout 6 hours ago in Poets
~ Fired ~
— Ai Intrusion ~ Are you Next ~ Is Ai Evolution after your job? — Few workplaces haven't been affected. Ai is in supermarkets, at doctors' offices, and even monitoring farms. I just can't think of anything this machine is not getting into, can you? For instance: Education ~ Law and Tech jobs will one day have a major influence or be taken over by these inanimate machines, with accuracy and vigor. From mechanics' diagnoses to a wide variety of everyday jobs, including fast food workers, with this input having the ability to cut their unnecessary work hours. I'm certain all of us have been touched by this with our short stories and colorful headings, have you? Even comments are very questionable 'Non-Robot' insertions.
By Jay Kantor8 days ago in Journal
Comments (13)
Even when you think you can't, you can, my friend.
“The challenge seems insurmountable Until the lines appear It's not great” is the bit that stood out to me, and I like how the simplicity of the lines makes them stand out, like affirmations of ability or inability either way😊
Well done.
And, there you go! You did it, and it makes sense. Great job. And thanks for the shout out. Hold on! Are you call me a cow? lmao.
Very nice! They’re elusive pieces! This was a fun one!
Look at you! When in doubt make em laugh! Your poem rocks, Rachel! And the cow, doing what cows do, is a hoot.
Well done… the very thought of writing Inverse poems makes my head spin 😳
😁And just like that, you did it. Very clever and fun!
hahahahhaha. Love this. Like...really...I love your attitude to stuff...like you know what's not right for you and what is...always admire that. And that Deeming humour is there lol. Before I read the comments I figured the cow image was important to the sentiments lol. TBH though...it is actually a good inverse poem and love the humour a lot. And like you say...you've had a go!
Ha ha! Proved yourself right. And wrong.
Oooo, that's definitely two very distinct meanings there, when read forwards and in reverse. I'd say you nailed this challenge!
It's way better than I could do...
I like this! For someone who claimed they can’t write inverse poems, you did a great job 😍😃