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Empty Bed (a poemish thing)

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  • nigel_tiptoe
    Empty Bed I lay in my bed needing to waken but pushing back into sleep the sensuous warmth of fleecy sheets and dreams of loving you I cry for the comfort of
    Message 1 of 5 , Nov 29, 2005
      Empty Bed

      I lay in my bed
      needing to waken
      but pushing back into sleep
      the sensuous warmth
      of fleecy sheets
      and dreams of loving you

      I cry for the comfort
      of your naked form
      from the syrupy depths of sleep
      knowing when I awaken
      to bitter truth
      that you are not here with me

      From this empty bed
      each morning torn
      and thrust into terrible day
      no wonder I stumble
      and often fall
      in the test of loving you

      But
      I
      do
    • Carol
      Dear Nigel, I curious about why you call this a poemish thing? That, to me, indicates a hesitation or resistance. Poems, as I m sure you already know, take
      Message 2 of 5 , Nov 29, 2005
        Dear Nigel,

        I curious about why you call this a "poemish thing?" That, to me,
        indicates a hesitation or resistance. Poems, as I'm sure you already
        know, take on many different forms; however, it is always up to the
        poet to call a piece of work complete.

        Now about this piece....The first thing that strikes me, especially
        on this bitter cold morning, is the overwhelming desire to crawl back
        under rumpled warm covers. Few things in life provide a more
        comforting feeling. But someone's missing from your bed, only
        existing in your dreams. Sometimes I'm able to retreat back into a
        warm and sensual dream, but reality is cruel. Wake up and even the
        lover's dent disappears from the bed. That is harsh reality, the neon
        bright light of day.

        One little minor sticking point for me. You say:
        "and often fall
        in the test of loving you"
        Did you mean to say "fail" instead of "fall?" Or should it be "fall
        into?"

        Carol

        --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, nigel_tiptoe <no_reply@y...>
        wrote:
        >
        > Empty Bed
        >
        > I lay in my bed
        > needing to waken
        > but pushing back into sleep
        > the sensuous warmth
        > of fleecy sheets
        > and dreams of loving you
        >
        > I cry for the comfort
        > of your naked form
        > from the syrupy depths of sleep
        > knowing when I awaken
        > to bitter truth
        > that you are not here with me
        >
        > From this empty bed
        > each morning torn
        > and thrust into terrible day
        > no wonder I stumble
        > and often fall
        > in the test of loving you
        >
        > But
        > I
        > do
        >
      • David Roth
        I feel the emotion of this piece, Nigel, having been there, done that, but have two questions: 1. Did you mean fail instead of fall in the last stanza 2.
        Message 3 of 5 , Nov 29, 2005
          Message
          I 'feel' the emotion of this piece, Nigel, having been there, done that, but have two questions:
           
          1. Did you mean fail instead of fall in the last stanza
           
          2.  'And I do'  Do what?  Fail?  Fall?  Love me?  <G>
           
          Dave 
           
           

          "And sometimes, if I listen very closely, I can hear voices…"

          from Sometimes I Hear Voices

          my new book

          available at LuLu.com

           

          -----Original Message-----
          From: ticket2write@yahoogroups.com [mailto:ticket2write@yahoogroups.com] On Behalf Of nigel_tiptoe
          Sent: Tuesday, November 29, 2005 5:00 AM
          To: ticket2write@yahoogroups.com
          Subject: [ticket2write] Empty Bed (a poemish thing)

          Empty Bed

          I lay in my bed
          needing to waken
          but pushing back into sleep
          the sensuous warmth
          of fleecy sheets
          and dreams of loving you

          I cry for the comfort
          of your naked form
          from the syrupy depths of sleep
          knowing when I awaken
          to bitter truth
          that you are not here with me

          From this empty bed
          each morning torn
          and thrust into terrible day
          no wonder I stumble
          and often fall
          in the test of loving you

          But
          I
          do






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        • wings081
          Pillow Talk Hi Nigel. Your words caused an acute vibration of my heart strings, recalling memories of the death of my dear wife. Long after she had gone I
          Message 4 of 5 , Nov 30, 2005
            Pillow Talk

            Hi Nigel.
            Your words caused an acute vibration of my heart strings, recalling
            memories of the death of my dear wife.
            Long after she had gone I slept on her side of our bed (and still
            do) snuggling into her pillow,trying to recapture the essence of the
            beautiful girl who had held my soul in bondage for all those happy
            years.
            I slept within the same bed linen for many weeks until it became
            positively unhygienic and I reluctantly consigned it to the laundry
            basket.

            Those persons who may be slightly disgusted with my actions can
            never have known the love of a beautiful woman, whose very existence
            outshone the stars. They can never have made love on the soft turf
            of a cliff top with sea daisies as a pillow; can never have
            experienced the raging passion by moonlight when the cold evening
            dew is condensed by your ardour; have never laid by her side as she
            gasps her last breath from a cancer riddled body; and have never
            leaned into her coffin and tasted her cold but still beautiful lips
            in a final goodbye.
            All these things I have done and the memory will never fade but your
            words Nigel retraced my past for a while and for that, I thank you.

            As always

            Wings










            --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, nigel_tiptoe <no_reply@y...>
            wrote:
            >
            > Empty Bed
            >
            > I lay in my bed
            > needing to waken
            > but pushing back into sleep
            > the sensuous warmth
            > of fleecy sheets
            > and dreams of loving you
            >
            > I cry for the comfort
            > of your naked form
            > from the syrupy depths of sleep
            > knowing when I awaken
            > to bitter truth
            > that you are not here with me
            >
            > From this empty bed
            > each morning torn
            > and thrust into terrible day
            > no wonder I stumble
            > and often fall
            > in the test of loving you
            >
            > But
            > I
            > do
            >
          • nigel_tiptoe
            Thanks for your comments and questions folks. I called Empty Bed a poemish thing rather than a poem for the very reasons you cite Carol. I was not confident
            Message 5 of 5 , Dec 2, 2005
              Thanks for your comments and questions folks.

              I called Empty Bed a 'poemish thing' rather than a poem for the very
              reasons you cite Carol. I was not confident that it was finished at
              the time of its posting. Now I am even less so.

              Often the best hints to the core message or meaning of a poem are
              found in the apparent disjunctures within it: the word associations,
              for example, that at first don't seem to make sense; odd phrasings;
              disturbances of the poem's rhythm of rhyme schemes; etc. I look for
              these features in my own poems, just as in those of others, because my
              own works often reveal to me understandings (and/or ignorances) of
              which I was unaware at the time of writing.

              In this case, the best hint may lie in the problematic phrasing which
              leads to your questions on my use of 'fall,' rather than 'fail' in the
              last verse.

              I can't quite recall where the phrase 'stumble and fall' comes from,
              but it echoes somehow in my memory. 'Stumble and fail' makes less
              sense to me, although it is a perfectly satisfactory association.

              I think what is being revealed here is my sense that love of a person
              who will not share your bed is a test of endurance, and that patient
              waiting and persistent effort is the best strategy to win her heart
              and body. I do not 'fail' in this test, because I never give up hope,
              although admission of failure and moving on to new loves may well be
              my wisest move. But I do often 'fall' and graze my knees (figuratively
              speaking). Pink Floyd put it more elegantly, although in a different
              context: 'holding on in quiet desperation is the English way,' they
              sang, if memory serves me well. It is an Australian way too, I
              discover to my cost.

              'But I do,' to answer another question, is an incomplete phrase; one
              hoping to find itself completed in the reader's mind: 'but I do ...
              love you.'

              Distinguishing poetry from prose becomes more difficult every day. As
              you say Carol, poems take many forms. I'd like to suggest that the
              degree to which poetry relies on disjunctures such as these to convey
              often difficult messages is one of those features which separates it
              from prose. So perhaps Empty Bed is a poem afer all.

              And in any event, Wings, you save me. If this poem, finished or
              otherwise, inspires such contemplations as yours, it has justified its
              existence.

              Nigel

              --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, nigel_tiptoe <no_reply@y...> wrote:
              >
              > Empty Bed
              >
              > I lay in my bed
              > needing to waken
              > but pushing back into sleep
              > the sensuous warmth
              > of fleecy sheets
              > and dreams of loving you
              >
              > I cry for the comfort
              > of your naked form
              > from the syrupy depths of sleep
              > knowing when I awaken
              > to bitter truth
              > that you are not here with me
              >
              > From this empty bed
              > each morning torn
              > and thrust into terrible day
              > no wonder I stumble
              > and often fall
              > in the test of loving you
              >
              > But
              > I
              > do
              >
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