Please read first:
For April 2020, Day 25 at 'imaginary garden with real toads', we are asked to be inspired by Willard Asylum, New York, and the suitcases of patients' belongings left behind after it closed; and to write in the voice of someone 'full of personal emotion, sentiment, longing, confusion…' For the poignant images of suitcases and contents, see here.
I was captured by the fragment of a handwritten letter or note in one suitcase (on lined, yellow paper) – and how, although the first words were easy to decipher, the rest, and even the signature, were open to interpretation.
This is not exactly a found poem; I've tampered with it a bit too much for that. Some of my variant verses could well be possible renditions of the original; with others I've taken a little licence to extend the concepts. I intend it as a sort of progression, albeit a confused one.
(Also shared at Poets and Storytellers United's Writers' Pantry #17.)
Leave it stand
leave it stand the
way it is until
I see the moon
about them
Jo
leave it stand the
way it is until
I see the moor.
o bent slam
J.
leave it stand the
way it is untild
I see the mess
about slam
‘Jo’
leave it stand the
way it is untold
I saw their moss
o burst slow
‘J.’
Leave it staid tho
may it is untile
may it is untile
I see this mess
about slim
'I'
leave it stand the
way it is untied
I saw the moor.
abrupt slam
I.
That’s such an interesting and inspired springboard for a poem, Rosemary, a fragment of a handwritten letter or note from one of the suitcases. I like the idea that your poem was found but not found, like the people who left their suitcases behind, and the variations on words, which convey the confusion of the writer. I especially like:
ReplyDelete‘leave it stand the
way it is untold
I saw their moss
o burst slow’.
Each of the various possibilities is intriguing and strangely attractive, I think.
DeleteThis is such an inspirational write, Rosemary!💘 I particularly like; "leave it stand the way it is until I see the moor."
ReplyDeleteThank you. See reply to Kim, above.
DeleteLove this- I think this is exactly what we're doing with COVID19 graphs and data... bringing our own lives and grief and fears into the meaning... and thank you, Rosemary, for the mention last week in your Friday feature.
ReplyDeleteInteresting observation, thank you.
DeleteAnd you're welcome!
A very intriguing poem I can feel the confusion of the letter writer and I love "leave it stand the
ReplyDeleteway it is until I see the moon about them
I'm pretty sure that is what the writer intended to say ... but it's not certain.
DeleteThanks for this Rosemary and the signposts to your inspiration.
ReplyDeleteAs a student nurse, I did my training in a psychiatric hospital – and seeing what I did there, I vowed I would never work in one and didn’t, rather working in the community once I qualified.
People were lost there and bar a a few exceptions, staff never sought to find them…
Oh, how sad and terrible that is! One would hope things might have improved.
DeleteThe mind, oh, the human mind in its un-doing-ness...
ReplyDeleteIndeed. Scary to contemplate, if we realise it could be oneself.
DeleteIn each verse except the last, there is the 'until' pivot, that for me says vision, future, hope
ReplyDeleteHappy safe Sunday Rosemary
Much💛love
Dear Gillena, I think that comment also says a lot about you! Your positive outlook is always a joy to encounter.
DeleteThe way the verses seem to be distorted echoes of each other feels very haunting. Knowing the background does make me think of the anguish and confusion of the inmates. But I think there's a sense of despair and confinement that is evident here, without knowing the source.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Rommy. I'm glad it works independently of the source.
DeleteI want to understand and know more about that mind and the note we "read into."
ReplyDeleteYes ... and alas, there is only this fragment. And, in the same suitcase, some unused pills; we can only guess what they might have been for.
DeleteI like the poem, especially after reading your introductory note. It left me thinking of universal truths and tips of icebergs. So much of what we see--the good and the terrible--is just the tip... there is so much left to decipher.
ReplyDeleteThese are lovely interpretations of what might have been written. I love you creativity and appreciate the story behind your writing.
ReplyDeleteThose few mysterious lines grabbed me and wouldn't let me go!
DeleteI was utterly enthralled by the Willard Asylum suitcases. I had to return to find the scrap of paper from which you drew your poem. I can only imagine the photographer was touched time and again by these remnants of the souls who ended at the Willard. Thank you so much for sharing this incredibly touching bit of history.
ReplyDeleteHaunting, isn't it? The whole thing. Each of the poems inspired by it was beautiful yet incredibly sad and bleak.
DeleteThis is a powerful, poignant and intriguing piece. The collection of suitcases is very soulful … and your words … a haunting echo … a visceral connection to our shared humanity.
ReplyDelete'There but for the grace ...'
Deleteunique poetic stanzas-making the reader feel as if watching a human body short of breath, gasping, about to pass away.Skillfully presented , we can say a new poetic form invented here. Dear Rosemary you are gifted.
ReplyDeleteThank you for the very kind words! It felt as if this one was given to me.
Delete"Leave it stand/the way it is..." I look at this as person who is accepting of themselves, their world and asking others to accept it as well. A sort of inevitability. "This is the way it is." The paths of your interpretations give interesting haunting worlds to flow towards.
ReplyDeleteOr one who is afraid of disruption, perhaps? Either could be. We can't know.
Deleteintriguing and interesting concept for a poem. i think i may try to find something like this to work on during this lockdown. :)
ReplyDeletemy version, much more mundane, a maintenance memo perhaps (but not likely inside a patient's suitcase) :
leave it stand the
way it is installed
I see the mess
don't alarm
I
Oh, clever! Far more coherent than any of mine.
DeleteHmm I sensed a distance in each verse though an wanting to be connected. A difficult prompt if truth be told. I try to write out my feelings each time a hospice patient dies. there are more tears than words
ReplyDeleteGreat to read your words
~moonie
Even when there are more tears than words, I think it's good that we write the words too.
DeleteLove this...Leave it stand so when I forget the paper will remember
ReplyDeleteThat's a lovely interpretation.
Delete