Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Missing Days




Missing Days



I miss those days when things could be fixed   
by rolling a joint, brewing some tea--
when laughing was breath, when loving was quick.

Songs wined the air, hearts shifted and mixed
into the hole with the sign painted 'free.'
I miss the days when things could be fixed

by building with cobwebs, abandoning bricks;
straw was our house, mistral bent the tree--
laughing was breath and stilettos dead sticks.

It took time to learn that mess has its tricks    
deeper than dust, cruel as the sea.
I miss those days when things could be fixed

by dreaming a garden, float-tripping the Styx
feeling the sun stripe the skin of a bee,
breathing the laugh of love coming quick

before the screams started, before the matrix 
burned children in tears, men drunk on disease.
I miss those days when things could be fixed,
when laughing was breath, when loving was quick.


~November 2012










Posted for   real toads
Challenge: Out of Standard
The incomparable Isadora Gruye has us looking at our guiltiest pleasures, the ones we never tell, and dragging them into the light. Mine, as the poem illustrates, is wallowing in self-pity, particularly late at night. Like I'm the first person who ever got old...




photos © joyannjones

42 comments:

  1. i miss those days when things could be fixed
    when laughing was breath, when loving was quick

    what a packed two lines...chock full of reminiscence, a bit of sorrow for yesterday and a conviction of the day...smiles....nice write ma'am

    ReplyDelete
  2. ... I miss those days as well. Seem to be living them through my grandchildren now. Happy Turkey Day!!

    ReplyDelete
  3. I'm so tired. i wish I could tell you how much this touched me, how unbelievably well it taps into all those parts that feel the loss of youth..
    Thank you for a wonderful piece of poetry.

    ReplyDelete
  4. "Missing days" speaks my mind, while flowing seamlessly triple to triple and rhyme to rhyme. It seeps right into the memory patter in my head. I love it. As much as I would rather be young, I like this awareness, like the time to write. Happy Thanksgiving.

    ReplyDelete
  5. I like Escape for lots of reasons. A big one is sound. Sometimes I don't really know what's going on,but I listen and hear stuff. This one just kind of sings. I miss stuff too. It's kind of taken this long to start to get it together. Great poetry from Dylan as well. Thank you.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I share that sound ticket to ride--some songs I've listened to for thrity years and am just now really hearing the lyrics properly. The Dylan was playing in my car yesterday and I couldn't resist sharing. Thanks for coming by, Scott.

      Delete
  6. when I didn't feel guilty wasting time.

    I would not know from your poetry that you succumb to self pity; perhaps that's where artistic discipline comes in? I'm guilty of the same thing, but growing old has never happened to me before. Strange how life always finds a way to keep us off balance.

    Thanks for making an effort to share your thoughts on my recent poem. I understand the poem was unwieldy. I'm always thankful for your visits. Hope you have a cozy and loving holiday.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. yes, that too(wasting time, the guiltiest of pleasures)Thanks Mark--I didn't think the poem was unwieldy exactly, more like my reactions to it were complex and hard to articulate. I wouldn't blame your words for my own confusion. I do edit ruthlessly for self-pity, both in writing and living, or it would be everywhere. Some people have to kick addiction--that's been my mental cross. On your other comment, thanks for encouraging me to look at more of Karen O'D's work, and I share your fascination with the doll trope--it comes up a lot in my dreams and poems. The book of dioramas sounds grimly toothsome. Hope you do a review.

      Delete
    2. I mean self-pity has been my cross. Thankfully I've been spared the addict genes.

      Delete
  7. Yeah. You know, you were talking one day about a Neil Young song you had on your side bar that went "think 'll pack it in and buy a pick up/ take it down to L.A./ find a place to call my own and try to fix up/ start a brand new day". You were talking about that feeling that a person could have, during youth, that starting over could be as simple as that. I've done it. That's how I ended up in San Antonio. There was always that feeling that, even if everything sucked, that someone exciting could walk in the room any time and chemistry could happen, or you could move from one low rent pad to another, and feel better, or quit your job and jake it for a while. I did these things, I remember the feeling well.

    There's a tipping point, though, isn't there, when a person has to stop doing that stuff. One's friends move on, get married, start making some money, have kids, all that, or maybe you do that stuff yourself, and one day everything's set in stone. Starting over hurts too much costs too much, though sometimes we do it anyway, it isn't easy breezy like before.

    There's payoffs, though. I have a home I'm not going to get kicked out of, I know who I am and what I'm good at, and I care a whole lot less what anybody thinks, except those I love. I don't have to try on hats, or go through a bunch of shit for the experience anymore. Been there, done that. *sigh* I don't know, Joy, what the hell the whole long strange trip means. But I sure know what you're writing about here. And that picture of you at the bottom? It's so poignant. Pretty hippie girl with her life ahead of her. How did we ever arrive here, eh?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. No kidding. I'm still working on figuring out where here is. Thanks, Shay, for your feedback--we're on the same page with this, I think.

      Delete
  8. This has undertones of so many songs from our youth, (although I think I'm older that you) and this aging thing creeps up and bites us in the butt, doesn't it? Your two refrains- when laughing was breath and loving was quick resonate with me (and I love how you phrased them). Especially when loving was quick, I mean, what's up with that? But, as my Honey said to me the other day: So what if it takes more time? We have more time. Good attitude. So, You're not alone, we're in this together. We're muddling through and writing new songs in the process. And listen to the wisdom your age brings to your poems. Truly brilliant.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Not self-pity I thought! I see this more of reminisces and reflections of what opportunities came one's way. If only one could maximize these when these happened. On hindsight one could have been better off. Great thoughts Joy! Shared similar sentiments on this!

    Hank

    ReplyDelete
  10. My, God. Today is my birthday, and this . . . says everything.

    ReplyDelete
  11. Oh gawd, i don't know how you can shut me up on this one, Joy. Might take me 4 comments.
    But i already knew. As a charter member, founding father, of this club, i could sense it. Maybe smell it.
    I've been thinkin of writing the same damn post. Now i don't have to. Maybe it wasn't innocense, but then ignorance is bliss. We've gotten too knowing. Too afraid to fly, having learned what goes up always comes down. And i hate it.
    Ok, i'll shut up. Thank you for taking my hand in this.
    I love that last pic
    Here's a flower for your hair
    I'll wear a bandana and big glasses.
    Those that say they love getting old are damn liars or need to remember better.
    Happy Thanksgiving
    ~rick

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I can't say I disagree with you. There are upsides to getting old, of course--one, that you forget how much it hurt to be young--but you give up a lot to get to that place where there are no highs or lows, where everything good has already happened for the first time, or second, or fifth. And I can always use a flower. Thanks, rick.

      Delete
  12. Oopsie! Innocence~not innocense
    And i frikken love your comment to MZ!
    Maybe we should stop awhile and let her catch up?
    Ha! Happy birthday to the sproutling

    ReplyDelete
  13. You have been reading my thoughts, dear Hedge. Just yesterday, a song came on the car radio that reminded me of my very first serious boyfriend, back in the day. I started sobbing and couldn't figure out why. I knew I didn't miss HIM. Then I figured out that I would probably never again be that passionate, that excited, that young again. It had never really hit me like that before. Life is great now, but the surprises are now mostly death and diseases and natural disasters, and I really can't be anything I want or go anywhere I want anytime any more.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I know--it sucks. But like, we have a choice? Thanks, LM.

      Delete
  14. This form is perfect for your topic and tone. Wow...I was wrapped in the free-whimsy of it...those were the days, when thing were easy and in the same breath I agree with Shay, it's nice to have security, too.

    I love the picture of you...saw a raw moment of you-ness gathered in.

    Great work, Hedge, I enjoyed this!!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Hannah. I was actually about two months pregnant in that pic, which is why I look so other-wordly I think--things changed a lot shortly thereafter. ;_)

      Delete
  15. Amen, girl! And me too!!! Your picture is gorgeous, you little hippie. Your repeated line "when things could be fixed" is very effective at driving home the point that there were days when "a good fix" was ... a good fix.

    Amazing: "It took time to learn that mess has its tricks"

    ~Shawna

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Like Mick says--'You got the mix/an Charlie, you got the fix/ but love/it's a bitch."
      Thanks Shawna.

      Delete
  16. those WERE the days! free love, drugs, rock n' roll! {sigh} i decided two years ago that i'm not celebrating birthdays anymore until i FEEL my chronological age. i'm not allowing my daughter to age either because i refuse to have a child in her ***ties! {grin}

    beautifully written, Joy!

    ReplyDelete
  17. I like your spin on the challenge, an emotional guilty pleasure.....how quaint! The courage to turn that mirror inward and admit is part of what makes you hedgey! The poem itself is the perfect balance of relishing and despising the toll of self. Well done and viva la

    ReplyDelete
  18. I am on board with this one...so many things I wish I could do again...I think I want to ride on Willie Nelson's bus. lol

    ReplyDelete
  19. I was born too soon - I missed out on the hippie Flower Power - but hey, us Mods and Rockers had our day, too!
    And my advice to all you youngsters? 'Don't look back on your life with regret - what's to come may hold the greatest moments yet!'

    ReplyDelete
  20. Me too girl. I miss the nights even more, but the best is yet to be.

    ReplyDelete
  21. hedge, just wanted to pop in this morning and let you know...you should go check what i smell burning...haha...no just kidding...know you were thought of today...and that i hope you have a great thanksgiving...i am thankful for you

    ReplyDelete
  22. came back to these words, so urgent, i wanted to feel it again. i swear i commented here before. i too wish to go back to the time when things could be fixed.

    ReplyDelete
  23. Wonderful poem, villanelle no less. Very well done - so many good lines! So much music! I'm not sure that the feeling of things being fixable goes with a specific era so much as a specific age in life - and I hate to say it but it is probably more endemic with someone as talented as you are as you would have been very good at thinking up solutions. (I'm thinking a bit here of The Drama of the Gifted Child.) You're also very brave to do the challenge - my guilty pleasures are a bit too guilty to describe with any gusto. I should say I am too guilty over them - they are not really so exciting!

    I don't actually think the poem illustrates self-pity - at least not in a way that mars it.

    Also, wanted to say, I love the idea of the quick and the dead. I get the other quick with the love, but I think there's also this other layer too - agh. Great pix. k. PS Hope you are having a good day.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks, k--yes, that meaning of quick was in my mind at writing. And yes, it is the age not the era--we learn laboriously how to cope a bit in our young adulthood, and find the things we think work, only to discover the flies in the ointment later. I said at the prompt I don't have much in the way of guilty pleasures--if I'm guilty, it's not a pleasure, and vice versa, so I'm with you there. ;_) Glad you enjoyed my amateurish photo manips--mostly trying to keep faces from being too obvious--even though I have no idea where any of those people are, or if they are, any more.

      I'm having a lovely unstressful day, thanks, making deviled eggs and relaxing--hope you are, too

      Delete
  24. Well, I could probably say the same thing you said to MZ, "just you wait!" but, despite having missed out on being a hippie by mere months, I know exactly what you're saying.
    My husband is mad at me for being sick and needy. I'm mad at myself for the same reason.
    Last night we watched a bunch of other people dancing. Finally someone got him up to dance, but I can't dance any more.
    So, self-pity? Yeah. I used to work full-time and overtime and do my own housework, and still have energy to go dancing once a week.
    Yeah, I know self-pity, and am guilty of it all too often, but it's not a pleasurable guilt, so I chose chocolate in response to the prompt!
    K

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. O I suppose I should have said nostalgia Kay. Real self pity is never pleasurable, though perhaps sometimes a certain kind of indulgence. I'm so sorry to hear you are in pain and tired--I never used to be tired either--now it seems I wake up that way.

      Delete
  25. Nice to read a nostalgic poem...:)

    ReplyDelete
  26. This is a poem that touches me... it must mean I'm "that age". I do look at old photos of myself and wonder how much of her is easily recognizable in me. Would my husband still be attracted if we just met today? He says "yes" but I don't know. I've changed so. Especially the whimsical part of my nature... I'm much more sarcastic now.

    ...and I believe you are Queen of the Villanelle.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I've gone beyond sarcastic into outright cranky. ;_) But I think those who are attracted to us are surely drawn by something besides our youthful appearance. Thanks for reading, and for the kind words, Margaret.

      Delete

'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg