Oh good! I didn't want to just spam your comment sections asking for you to give a literal translation of every evocative poem you post, so I thought I'd ask a commenter what link they saw. I myself was unable to draw a connection between the title and the text.
that isn’t the reader’s fault in this case. I’ll leave some space for @Meditations On Permafrost to say more because there are intentional threads there, but I didn’t set out at all to write a Shakespeare allegory (more on that later)
The narrator is asking to be kept in the loop. To have a grounding to keep from going insane the way Ophelia did when kept at arm’s length from Hamlet (plus a few other distressing events).
The cold and the tears: maybe drowning is a cold sensation? The narrator would rather share it than let it happen to one of the romantic couple alone. Or maybe if that cold and sad sensation can come directly from the partner to wake the narrator, he/she won’t feel the need to search for it in a drowning lake.
And it’s a romantic couple, because we have petals on sheets. Of course petals = flowers = Ophelia’s whole thing, and she was gathering more when she drowned, when she “slipped” from the willow into the water, not resisting because she was maddened by “grief.”
Drawn by a fly or dove: something lightweight, seemingly insignificant…maybe the narrator wants to be let in no matter how small the feeling, lest those feelings grow and drown the partner?
Which brings us to hiding the hurt, the request to be stopped at the edge (of the fatal lake?). But the lake here is the bed, the most intimate physical area of the relationship, serving metaphorically as its psychosexual heart, strewn with petals from the potentially wayward and grief-stricken partner.
Then the end is avoiding that drowning by being guided to the edge of the bed/lake and reoriented (emotionally, conceptually, physically). Or it’s Hamlet asking to be stopped at the edge before going too far, asking to be given a chance to start again. So both partners have a bit of Ophelia’s danger in them, possibly. A meditation on communication rather than a straight comparison by way of allegory.
There’s also a cool thing in the beginning where you can sort of read some of the breaks backwards: “If you are cold, wake me up with tears; land one on me here: a heavy thing in need of lifting, a song on the radio—our exit, the car making a sound you hear, food-related reasons for animals, or ghosts.”
Oh and the ghost is pretty obvious…I don’t think Ophelia was told about the apparition.
Narcisse grabs a lot of my intention here, including some backwards enjambment if you want to call it that - I love working in clues bottom up. Thank for you for your comment! You too Permafrost.
I must confess however that there are parts of this iceberg that probably cannot be discovered without more information, and that's my fault
Ophelia is a dove that my partner owned for almost 18 years. She died in a freezing event when our house didn't have power for over a month. Just couldn't keep her warm enough
That was a difficult period of time for Ophelia's owner (my Ophelia, no doubt) who was recovering from some pretty horrific stuff that caused us to have a protected address for a while. Witness Protection and all that. That time is one of the main reasons I'm more anonymous on here...
My Ophelia loves flowers and I thought she was going insane in that freezing house. When the dove died I wrote this poem and things wove together
I’m always happy to talk about my reactions to poetry! That’s part of the fun. And I might learn something too.
So you called it Ophelia, so that is going to inform any reading of it. It sounded like a dialogue between two lovers, one sounded almost manic, asking the other repeatedly. She (from my interpretation) then talks about petals (which triggered my Ophelia) and laying them down… petals in the water. Laying her down… which might trigger a few paintings in your head if the poem is called Ophelia.
So obviously not a direct interpretation but spiritually it felt like you were channeling the energy from the association to talk about a modern relationship.
This is a very well received interpretation by the writer of the poem. <3 I'll reveal more of the iceberg in my response to Narcisse if you're interested
Having experimented a little with a more diffuse approach to life and work, I've found that I need to buffer adequate time into my schedule to allow for properly attending to interruptions. With inadequate buffering, interruptions become stressful. But buffering means leaving my schedule emptier than it might be if I were more focussed/efficient. As you might imagine, my approach is sometimes misinterpreted as laziness. Oh well, we Irish have never been known for our Prussian work ethic anyway, so who cares?
I too am unlearning more than I am learning. It feels natural to chose what I engage in, though very difficult to zoom out far enough to see where there are still predefined edges. We all have things we don’t remember choosing to be, you know? I want to live from scratch
Fungi can choose all possible routes at once. If the fungus discovers something to eat, it reinforces the links that connect it with the food and prunes back the links that don’t lead anywhere. One can think of it in terms of natural selection. Mycelium overproduces links. Some turn out to be more competitive than others. These links are thickened. Less competitive links are withdrawn, leaving a few mainline highways. By growing in one direction while pulling back from another, mycelial networks can even migrate through a landscape. The Latin root of the word extravagant means “to wander outside or beyond.” It is a good word for mycelium, which ceaselessly wanders outside and beyond its limits, none of which are preset as they are in most animal bodies. Mycelium is a body without a body plan. - Merlin Sheldrake, Entangled Life
This is so evocative and spiritually in keeping with the tale of Ophelia. Great work.
Thank you my friend. I appreciate that acknowledgement. I tried to thread that needle without bashing anyone over the head with it <3
It works very well. It’s a flavour in the mixture, it doesn’t override everything else.
Would you mind explaining the connection you see between the poem and Ophelia's story?
Good to hear from you Narcisse. I won't spoil the fun of folks talking about my poetry but I'm here to guide the conversation if needed <3
Oh good! I didn't want to just spam your comment sections asking for you to give a literal translation of every evocative poem you post, so I thought I'd ask a commenter what link they saw. I myself was unable to draw a connection between the title and the text.
that isn’t the reader’s fault in this case. I’ll leave some space for @Meditations On Permafrost to say more because there are intentional threads there, but I didn’t set out at all to write a Shakespeare allegory (more on that later)
Ok my thoughts are now:
The narrator is asking to be kept in the loop. To have a grounding to keep from going insane the way Ophelia did when kept at arm’s length from Hamlet (plus a few other distressing events).
The cold and the tears: maybe drowning is a cold sensation? The narrator would rather share it than let it happen to one of the romantic couple alone. Or maybe if that cold and sad sensation can come directly from the partner to wake the narrator, he/she won’t feel the need to search for it in a drowning lake.
And it’s a romantic couple, because we have petals on sheets. Of course petals = flowers = Ophelia’s whole thing, and she was gathering more when she drowned, when she “slipped” from the willow into the water, not resisting because she was maddened by “grief.”
Drawn by a fly or dove: something lightweight, seemingly insignificant…maybe the narrator wants to be let in no matter how small the feeling, lest those feelings grow and drown the partner?
Which brings us to hiding the hurt, the request to be stopped at the edge (of the fatal lake?). But the lake here is the bed, the most intimate physical area of the relationship, serving metaphorically as its psychosexual heart, strewn with petals from the potentially wayward and grief-stricken partner.
Then the end is avoiding that drowning by being guided to the edge of the bed/lake and reoriented (emotionally, conceptually, physically). Or it’s Hamlet asking to be stopped at the edge before going too far, asking to be given a chance to start again. So both partners have a bit of Ophelia’s danger in them, possibly. A meditation on communication rather than a straight comparison by way of allegory.
There’s also a cool thing in the beginning where you can sort of read some of the breaks backwards: “If you are cold, wake me up with tears; land one on me here: a heavy thing in need of lifting, a song on the radio—our exit, the car making a sound you hear, food-related reasons for animals, or ghosts.”
Oh and the ghost is pretty obvious…I don’t think Ophelia was told about the apparition.
Narcisse grabs a lot of my intention here, including some backwards enjambment if you want to call it that - I love working in clues bottom up. Thank for you for your comment! You too Permafrost.
I must confess however that there are parts of this iceberg that probably cannot be discovered without more information, and that's my fault
Ophelia is a dove that my partner owned for almost 18 years. She died in a freezing event when our house didn't have power for over a month. Just couldn't keep her warm enough
That was a difficult period of time for Ophelia's owner (my Ophelia, no doubt) who was recovering from some pretty horrific stuff that caused us to have a protected address for a while. Witness Protection and all that. That time is one of the main reasons I'm more anonymous on here...
My Ophelia loves flowers and I thought she was going insane in that freezing house. When the dove died I wrote this poem and things wove together
I’m always happy to talk about my reactions to poetry! That’s part of the fun. And I might learn something too.
So you called it Ophelia, so that is going to inform any reading of it. It sounded like a dialogue between two lovers, one sounded almost manic, asking the other repeatedly. She (from my interpretation) then talks about petals (which triggered my Ophelia) and laying them down… petals in the water. Laying her down… which might trigger a few paintings in your head if the poem is called Ophelia.
So obviously not a direct interpretation but spiritually it felt like you were channeling the energy from the association to talk about a modern relationship.
In my mind.
Which is full of scorpions as you know.
This is a very well received interpretation by the writer of the poem. <3 I'll reveal more of the iceberg in my response to Narcisse if you're interested
I never would've asked you to open up your mind here if I'd known it was full of scorpions. Apologies for the mess, Ootheca.
Yes, I am going to just piggyback here and agree. This is great, and I particularly like the lower third.
Thank you so much Sean!
goddamn. 🖤
Damn dude why the hell do I not get notifs for this?this is exquisite
thank you so much my friend
Maybe now was the perfect time for you to find it <3
Having experimented a little with a more diffuse approach to life and work, I've found that I need to buffer adequate time into my schedule to allow for properly attending to interruptions. With inadequate buffering, interruptions become stressful. But buffering means leaving my schedule emptier than it might be if I were more focussed/efficient. As you might imagine, my approach is sometimes misinterpreted as laziness. Oh well, we Irish have never been known for our Prussian work ethic anyway, so who cares?
I too am unlearning more than I am learning. It feels natural to chose what I engage in, though very difficult to zoom out far enough to see where there are still predefined edges. We all have things we don’t remember choosing to be, you know? I want to live from scratch
Fungi can choose all possible routes at once. If the fungus discovers something to eat, it reinforces the links that connect it with the food and prunes back the links that don’t lead anywhere. One can think of it in terms of natural selection. Mycelium overproduces links. Some turn out to be more competitive than others. These links are thickened. Less competitive links are withdrawn, leaving a few mainline highways. By growing in one direction while pulling back from another, mycelial networks can even migrate through a landscape. The Latin root of the word extravagant means “to wander outside or beyond.” It is a good word for mycelium, which ceaselessly wanders outside and beyond its limits, none of which are preset as they are in most animal bodies. Mycelium is a body without a body plan. - Merlin Sheldrake, Entangled Life