On the Balcony

by Eve Castle

There is a void
no cigarette can fill.

Alcohol ignites thoughts of dead futures.

Music is life.

Soaking, ripping, surging
through a night of worries
through a life of doubt,
a buoy among men,

but not tonight
not on this balcony.

One final stirring pulse

tomorrow
is still fading
dreams die to one more measure

stepping forward
eyes closed
you draw in smoke
you exhale breath.

I wrote this poem originally on a napkin when I was with a friend who had suffered a significant loss and was just starting to work their way through their grief. We are no longer in touch... life has moved us on different paths - but at the time I wrote it I was experiencing their grief with them and it became mine as well. Music is a healing power but when someone is so buried in a loss that music does not penetrate then it takes something stronger. I like to think that I provided that strength at that time but if so, there is no evidence of that - quite the contrary... but this is a blog about the craft of writing - not about me - so I'll move to why I'm here tonight to share this poem.

I had a conversation with someone about poetry and we discussed when a poem is finished and I used the analogy of an "adopted child." If you adopt a child you have to accept that they are not perfect, that they are messy, that they can be loud and obnoxious, or they can be too soft-spoken and spineless for your taste, but ultimately, they are your children... you love them, you raise them, you adopt them into your life and give them your name. You try to raise them right, you show them a path that is meaningful, that should make them successful... but you may still end up with that stubborn one, or the one that doesn't pick up after themselves... at some point you have to say, they are who they are, but they are mine. You let them be. So this one, I adopt and I'll let it be and hope that someone reading it will get some value from it.

As for notes on where it stands now... I will say that instead of "ignites" I originally used "inspires" but ignites connects better with the cigarette image. I also eliminated the word "somber" that I had originally placed in front of "night" and "life". Afterall, the poem goes from cigarettes, to alcohol, to music... and talks about dead futures... you don't have to tell the reader it is "somber" - they should pick up on that. The very last word is "breath" and that is the original word. I played with "you exhale life" based on some feedback at a poetry workshop, but ultimately came back to breath. Breath is life... it just seems right.

This is my adopted child, good or bad, with all of its associated memories and feelings, with all the energy I had to give poured in.

Veritas

by Eve Castle

In that verge, when closed eyes sense morning
and deepness lingers like the scent of fresh washed hair
she arrives and whispers along my skin.

I lie still like a bandit
listening to my knowing breath
seeing beyond clouds

but clarity is the startled sparrow
taking wing, its song fading into mist.

This is one of my oldest poems. I actually took this one to a couple of poetry workshops and got some feedback. There was discussion about whether the bird referred to was a song bird (the original bird I had in the poem was a swallow) and at that time I also had a line "aware of my thirst" just after the line "seeing beyond clouds." I dropped the thirst line later, but even before that, I did change the bird from swallow to sparrow to remove any thought of the act done with the mouth/throat ("her" arrival is very sensual and I didn't want to continue to promote that line of thought - yes, there were of course men interpreting the poem at the workshop! Pretty typical, at least from my experience.) In any case, the actual inspiration for this poem did come to me one morning in my bed and it hasn't changed much from the initial order it arrived in.

One point made at the workshop that I resisted until much later was the use of the word truth. I originally had "a truth arrives" and the word 'truth' and its relationship to 'clarity' later in the poem was discussed.

Also, I realize that it is more common to hear the word verge as "on the verge" but I prefer "in that verge" because to me that is more intimate and that's the sense I want here, that this is a very intimate moment. This is one of the reasons I used first person as well.

What is the moment? The moment that something becomes totally clear... a moment of certainty/clarity... a moment where truth is plain or clear. I lie still (like a bandit - something of value has my attention), I listen to my "knowing" breath (this breath is different due to the clarity/truth that has arrived), I see beyond clouds (things that are in the way or things that make something difficult or unclear). I am "on the brink" in that moment (original title was On The Brink) but that moment of clarity, the moment that whispered along my skin... soon flies away... veritas (little truths). One can also see this as arrival of the muse, that moment that is so clear, where truth fills you.

This poem was published in a chap book, Gabe's Poets Still Searching, December 2009.