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Spark.

Submitted by riotface97 on Thu, 2017-01-26 11:02

Spark.

Luminescence leaked
from the cracks in my soul
like petals on the brink of Winter.

A state that given enough time
without hope of a glimmer,
would find even stoics chasing teardrops
down unbathed skin
to see them crash into pavement.
A thousand shattered hopes.

I watch days turn to weeks turn to months as
I sink further into bed,
I drown.

Paralysed on blood-stained sheets.

My configurations, maladapted.

My brain made all wrong.
Nightly guests
of pills, smoke and booze
join me on quests chasing unconsciousness
waiting till
bruised skin falls numb
and hands with their tremor fall quiet.

Other nights offer a glimpse
at normality.
What could have been
if parents didn't say things
maybe parents shouldn't say,
and other kids weren't so goddamn cruel.

And morning's first breath
is still drawn in panic,
night crowded by regret.

These dinner guests are nothing more than
hollow, plastic mannequins.
I need something more. I need more.

I need luminescence.
I need evenings by the beach.
I want someone to fall in love with;
heartbreak and betrayl and kindness and drunkeness and embarassment and introverts and extroverts and, overall,
beauty.

So this is my return.
This is my spark.

And as the walls echo
with static from my mother's box tv
I'm half-awake on a futon,
drowning

We never stop learning to walk.

And the walls echoed
with static from my mother's box tv
and I'm half-awake on a futon
and I'm drowning

We never stop learning how to walk.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
A few months ago, I woke up one day to find I no longer enjoyed writing. Each evening I would sit down and force myself to write. Every word and every sentence, though, seemed gruelling. From what was once one of the main sources of fulfilment in my life, had now become a chore as mundane as the dishes. Yes, I still finished short excerpts and the occasional first draft, but everything I wrote seemed void of meaning. Lifeless. So this piece is about how I, a few nights ago, found whatever 'it' is, again. I've been struggling with severe depression for years and recently had a really bad episode which involved me staying in bed and doing nothing for weeks. It has finally passed, and the other night when I came home from work, I found a comment on facebook that seemed like a beautiful first line for a short story. A spark. That's what this poem is about.
Editing stage: 
Editing - rough draft
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

chevyvent

Thu, 2017-01-26 15:02

chevyvent's picture

We can all get lost in the sauce of brevity
Shelter lies dormant amidst it's beckoning plough
The piece is timeless in that captures the true essence of the heart
The whisper brought me back to my past in a timeless place in thought
Evening by the beach is a taste of symbolic love of the ocean
You are moving in the right direction keep up the great work here.

Mario Vitale

weirdelf

Fri, 2017-07-07 08:57

weirdelf's picture
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It speaks not just to depression but to life, beauty, pain, creativity, 42...
I did a reading, do I have your permission to post it to our Neopoet Facebook page?
https://soundcloud.com/neopoet/spark

cheers,
Jess
A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'
https://www.neopoet.com/workshop/rhythm-and-meter-poetry

riotface97

Sat, 2017-07-08 05:23

riotface97's picture
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It's great to hear it out loud read by someone else as well. I'm glad it didn't come out too soppy/cliche as that's something I'm always struggling to avoid (as I assume all writers would be).

Nicholas.

author comment

weirdelf

Sat, 2017-07-08 05:31

weirdelf's picture
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yeah, maybe some others don't try hard enough to avoid sentiment. But there will always be some to smash the cliches and torment the trite.

cheers,
Jess
A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'
https://www.neopoet.com/workshop/rhythm-and-meter-poetry

lovedly

Sun, 2017-07-09 13:01

lovedly's picture

you are young man that spark

which once again ignites dying candles
well done such smooth reading
coming from one suffering from depression
is incredible

it sparks me also to compose
on humans which one's like you do repose
one's inner feelings you amply expose
I suppose

when the spark has ignited fully
my lilting candle flamed again
I may compose one like this
if from the scourges
of my cancer of ego
I still sustain
I won't say remain

Let my spark ignite first me
then many like friend poets
like ye
who need such sparks that flee

riotface97

Mon, 2017-07-10 23:13

riotface97's picture
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to this, and all other comments. Not too great at taking compliments, remembering things, or replying to people, but I'm working on it. I really enjoy your work as well and hearing something like this from another writer is a really beautiful thing.

Nick.

author comment

lovedly

Tue, 2017-07-11 00:10

lovedly's picture

you are just a kiddy
for a granpa like me
sunny

take care
meditate
but don't lose your anger
at any rate

hold your breath
some one will say
are you kidding
no don't run away

hold your breath
he could be in a state worse
but on your lips there lies a verse
his may be a curse

stay away from evil do
now you are not that young
physically
mentally are you

I will continue to read you
your words are lovely
I am learning from the younger generation
the likes of you
thank you nik
You have a lovely
ink

Gracy

Wed, 2020-06-03 11:16

Gracy's picture
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Hello Nick, I think you're new here? Welcome, I'm also fairly new. Neopoet is like a family, so I hope you feel at home posting your poems here.
So sorry about your depression, that's certainly a difficult and long time to have it. You seem to be a strong person, having gone thru' such a long bout of listlessness, apathy and sometimes total depression.
If you've been able to write this highly spirited poem about yourself, I think you're on the road to recovery, but it may take time. I emphasize because I lost two sons who were in their twenties to different illnesses. It's a long story, but I began to write poetry and still do to this day. Also short stories. All this has helped me enormously, I can actually write about my two sons who died, as well as my late husband.
I pray that you can keep up composing such touching poems, once you've started you'll probably continue to greater heights. Regards from Argentine Patagonia, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

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