i leave my bed unmade
i leave my bed unmade
photo and words by nicoletta da ros
i leave my bed unmade
whenever i enter the room, someone different is making it
someone who stays for a while
sharing a word
or just a gaze
worth a million discourses
we speak the language of dreams
they come from distant years
wearing clothes weaved with tears
of abandonment and fear
they enter with the breeze of lazy summer hours
of a world that doesn’t exist
the leftovers of dreamless nights
companions of fearless times
ghosts of long-gone days
they don’t stay long (i wonder why)
but after all
they never leave
This seems like an ode to wizen women of Spanish-Mayan descent or direct Kenyan immigrants employed as a housekeeper at one of those weekend stay hotels. I get hints of several weekend visits resulting in an early check out time. With that I see a series of lovers sharing a rented seasonal bed with the only thing close to honesty and intimacy found in the experience is the look exchanged between passing women who know but have come too far to care much and withhold judgement. This leaves judgement up to the speaker of the poem and I feel the expereince is in the present tense.
I also found the injected ryhme distracting.
The grain of poetry is very evident here! Commendatory words and photo which complement each other. I haven’t read any poems of late which shared title and first line…good way to start i think. Material seemed to capture that solitary experience we all have where our mind’s thoughts wander throughout imagination wondering about various people, real or made-up, who have made an imprint on our lives in some way or fashion.
I’m not trying to be an asshole [i do that without trying], but if i may suggests some ‘tweaking’ in line break and word choice. Here’s what i would have done if I had been talented enough to write this poem:
i leave my bed unmade
photo and words by nicoletta da ros
i leave my bed unmade
whenever i enter the room,
someone different is making it
someone who stays for a while
sharing a word
or just a gaze
worth a million discourses
we speak the language of dreams
they come from a distant time
wearing clothes weaved
with tears of abandonment and fear
they enter with the breeze
of lazy summer hours
of a world that doesn’t exist
the leftovers of dreamless nights
companions of brave distance
ghosts of long-gone days
they don’t stay long (i wonder why)
but after all
they never leave
You may disagree, just consider it. Halfway through the original, the sudden burst of rhyme (years, tears, wearing, fear) i thought detracted from the poem’s serious flow and mystical vibe. Interspersed rhyme or just a couple of lines would be ideal, in my opinion for a poem like this. I use a lot of rhyme in my poems but i’m a complete goofball who writes silly absurd metaphysical Dr. Seuss in the garden of life kinda shit–you don’t want to lower yourself to that genre. Just kidding. Anyway, thanks for submission nicoletta. I very much enjoyed the read…and i will keep your name in my pocketbook.
Sorry, that revision on line 9 should read: “they come from a far away time” …my bad.
Chingow! Sounds like you got the inside-scoop inspector! I trust your intuition and empirical prowess with all things literary, sir, more than I would a bearded, leather-bound Hell’s Angels 3-tour Vietnam Vet in sunglasses at Sturgis surrounded by naked biker chicks telling me how to pop wheelies on a Harley Roadster.
Sometimes it’s about the specific and not the generalized, immaculate point.
P.S. I think it would be neat to start a biker gang who rides Italian Vespa motor scooters… call them ‘The Crazy Pastafinas’!
Never mind what I said- the poet had an intention. I am lending my observational impression. My impression is just less abstract. That doesn’t mean it’s right. I liked the revision. It reads with more clarity of purpose.