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Things that have fallen out of my wife's side of the bed: (1 Viewer)

dannyboy

WF Veterans
New edit (is nothing ever finished?)

Her books, frequently,
the latest cover design
slipping free from loosened fingertips
a gentle thump
upon the woollen carpeted floor.

The cat, displaced,
the perfect curling place
uncurled by my wife’s feet,
lands upright, a distainful glance,
a scratch at the door.

The doona, in winter and summer,
pulled for warmth
kicked away prospecting for cool air;
menopause, a shifting tide,
wary the way it might rise or fall.

Her laptop, often,
hidden at the foot, forgotten
until 3am when the laptop slips;
a child escaping the bed
hits the floor ready to run.

The iPhone, regularly,
emails checked, gets lost in the labyrinth;
children texts, idle calls, her dreams found
in the cracks between facebook
and message received.

My heart, sometimes,
words uttered
unwound in the dark
mistakes painted on the ceiling
like a slideshow from an old projector.

Afterwards I lie awake and wait;
sometime, between her murmur of sleep
and the cat’s purr,
my fearful heart returns,
I set forth towards dawn.



************************************************************
Her books, many of them
slipping free from loosened fingertips
until a gentle thump
upon the woollen carpeted floor.

The cat, frequently,
having found the perfect curling place
uncurled by my wife’s feet, shifted
eventually displaced to land upright on the floor
a glance of hatred, a scratch at the door,
I let the cat out, go back to bed.

The doona, in winter and summer,
pulled for warmth
shrugged away prospecting for cool air;
names it menopause,
I know it as a shifting tide,
wary the way it might rise or fall.

Her laptop, often
hidden beneath, at the foot, when she goes out
fearful someone will break in, forgetful,
goes to bed, around three in the morning
her feet budge, the laptop slips;
a child escaping the bed
hits the floor ready to run.

The iPhone, regularly,
emails checked, gets lost in the labyrinth;
children texts, idle calls, her dreams found
in the cracks between facebook
and message received.

My heart, sometimes,
when words unwind in the dark
mistakes painted on the ceiling
like a slideshow from an old projector.
Afterwards I lay awake and wait;
sometime, between her murmur of sleep
and the cat’s purr, my heart returns,
I set forth towards dawn.
 
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Llyralen

Senior Member
I love this premise. As a wife who has “stuff” on my side of the bed, I am even more interested to hear a partner’s commentary. So I care about this poem and am going to give you a bit more of my thoughts— I hope that’s okay in “showcase” I don’t know if it is, but hopefully my thoughts will be taken as okay…

I’d like to see the prosey first 4 stanzas get more condensed and poetic like stanza 5 and 6, that’s when I got even more interested. I was interested in how all these things were viewed by “the spouse”. I wanted more from the last sentence than it gave about the relationship, instead setting forth towards dawn is just about “you” separate from “her”. That would be less disappointing to me if together-then-separate was the theme of the poem. I don’t think that is the theme of the poem, though. In that last line, I wanted to know about how “you” felt about all her things— about her— and about the mistakes on the wall. I wanted more info than just saying “My heart sometimes” implying that your heart sometimes falls out of the bed? And the heart returning to you. I like that your heart is one of the things, but I just want to hear the feelings and thoughts, maybe end with your heart being one of the things in the bed with her? Maybe change the title to be the things in the bed rather than falling out to accomplish this?

Anyway, I appreciate this poem and idea and if you make revisions, I’d love to read it. I hope you share this with your wife. :) Cheers and thank you for a poem with a concept I will definitely remember.
 
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Namyh

Senior Member
Danny boy - I liked this a lot. For a brief moment, it reminded me of me when I wake up in the morning looking for my glasses so I can find my teeth so I can shout to my wife so she bring me my hair and a cup of coffee. Whoa! LOL. You did good DB. Thanks for the morning memory. Namyh
 

Llyralen

Senior Member
Thank you both.
Llyralen, I have considered and tinkered, sadly the end stays the same, this poem was always about me.
Ahh. I’m not sure, then, how you meant it. I don’t know what you would like to happen: more sleep…more attention…more ?

I think outsiders can’t always tell unless we are told the expectations the person has.

I have heard people say something about their partner like “He can never find his glasses,” and with a follow up question they say “Oh! It’s very endearing, It’s one of my favorite things about him.”

Someone else might sound like they are amused, “He can never find his glasses” but with follow up questions I find out it’s the millstone around their neck, their life is wasted trying to find this ridiculous man’s glasses. They bitterly think their partner must be trying to lose glasses to make their life a living hell. All they said was “He can never find his glasses.” but they usually expect that other people would feel what they feel, but we might not.

We might need to hear more feeling/judging words in this— or maybe I’m just the idiot who didn’t get it.

I have debated about deleting this and rewritten it several times, but I’m just going to send. My best to you! Also I use the word doona, but I used to live in Denmark, I think most people in the USA, anyway, know it as duvet. Cheers.
 

dannyboy

WF Veterans
Ahh. I’m not sure, then, how you meant it. I don’t know what you would like to happen: more sleep…more attention…more ?

I think outsiders can’t always tell unless we are told the expectations the person has.

I have heard people say something about their partner like “He can never find his glasses,” and with a follow up question they say “Oh! It’s very endearing, It’s one of my favorite things about him.”

Someone else might sound like they are amused, “He can never find his glasses” but with follow up questions I find out it’s the millstone around their neck, their life is wasted trying to find this ridiculous man’s glasses. They bitterly think their partner must be trying to lose glasses to make their life a living hell. All they said was “He can never find his glasses.” but they usually expect that other people see what we see, but we might not.

We might need to hear more feeling/judging words in this— or maybe I’m just the idiot who didn’t get it.

I have debated about deleting this and rewritten it several times, but I’m just going to send. My best to you! Also I use the word doona, but I used to live in Denmark, I think most people in the USA, anyway, know it as duvet. Cheers.
Again thank you and I understand what you are asking for, but I'm happy for things to remain unsaid...basically another night navigated.
 

TL Murphy

Met3 Member
Staff member
Chief Mentor
Good poem, Danny. I like how the list elaborates on each item.

Since the poem is in present tense, the word “lay” in the last stanza, should be “lie.”
 

tonsonenotany

Senior Member
I like this a lot, particularly the description of menopause. A nit, but there are two places where the repetition of a word tripped me up - "curled" in the second stanza and "laptop" in the fourth.

In the fifth stanza, I have a little trouble picturing the sheets as a "labyrinth", which I picture as sort of regular and solid-walled. Also, I assume that "message received" refers to an SMS, but it's just a little too non-specific for me, I can't actually picture that on a phone (unless it's an Android thing?)

Overall though, this poem does a nice job alternating between the particular and the general, the petty and the broader relationship. Thanks for the read!
 
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