PD30 Day 5: Poetry and Pain
September 5, 2008 by J.C. Hewitt
Pain is personal. Pain is powerful. Pain is not original. Accepting the risk of hyperbole, I can say that all poets go through a pain period. All people, and thus all poets, suffer. You may be mistreated by a parent, rejected by a lover, betrayed by a friend or touched by death. These things happen, and when they happen, many people turn to poetry. They write about their pain. They express their anger, guilt or resentment. They work through their pain with poetry. It helps.
I’ve been through a few pain periods. I have several poems that I wrote while my mother fought for her life in a hospital for nearly six months. I’ve also used poetry to work through more than one failed relationship. I have written poetry to express my loneliness when I was staying in hotels week after week. I have written elegies to fallen friends and relatives. Writing poems about your pain provides perspective. It allows you to vent emotions. It can even provide some closure.
Pain is a frequent topic of poems and motivator for poetry. Unfortunately, pain is not always the most reader-friendly theme in poetry. The problem with poems about pain is that they can go wrong quickly. Pain has been described so often and in so many ways that pain itself is all but a cliché. There is little you can say about pain that hasn’t been said before. Beyond that, there are other potholes. Dwelling too much or too directly on pain can make a poem feel maudlin and the author seem self-pitying. Instead of sympathy or understanding, the poem becomes preachy or self-important. It is a delicate process.
In my opinion, poems about pain are best when they focus on the external and the specific rather than the internal and expansive. Your audience knows what pain is. They have felt pain before. What they don’t know are the events, moments, sights, sounds, smells and actions that lead to your pain. Tell your story. Don’t tell people how to feel. Don’t even tell them how you feel. Show them what you went though. If you do it well, they will fill on all the blanks for you. Good readers (and who wants bad ones) have a real talent for figuring things out if you give them enough to go on.
Today’s Poetry Prompt
Write a poem about an event in your life that you have strong feelings about (it doesn’t have to be painful) without stating how you feel about the event. If you want an extra challenge, end every third line with the letter “R”.
Related links
- 30 Poems in 30 Days set for September (0.500)
- All About 30 Poems in 30 Days (0.500)
- PD30 Day 1: I Believe in Poetry (0.500)
- PD30 Day 2: Generally Be Specific (0.500)
- PD30 Day 3: A Review of Meter (0.500)
A really interesting point.
Michael Harper has written some poems on the death of his two infant sons (”On the Death of Our Son, Reuben Masai Harper,” “Reuben, Reuben” and “Death Watch”). For me, what makes these poems so striking and incredibly poignant is that they are almost clinical, focusing on hospital equipment and other external factors that you point out.
@ Zoë
That illustrates the point well. There is no word that can describe the pain he must have felt, but we can all envision the severity of the pain.
@ Zoë:
From personal experience, I would state that you must focus on something, and focusing on the lost child is too painful. Focussing on the pain is irrelevant. For one, each person experiences pain differently, and two, each type of loss brings its own type of pain. Only those who have lost a chidl know what that feels like. Only those who have lost a mother or a father knows what that feelas like. Does that men we can not reach out to each other? Absolutely not. Most people in pain, really want and need an ear that listens without judgement and a shoulder to cry on that does not sirk at the tears. How does one capture this in poetry?
@John:
I am not sure it is intentionally done, or a matter of getting through. I have written much poetry while dealing with pain and on dealing with pain. I am not sure I want to take that trip today. I will write a poem, but I make absolutely no guarantees. It is a meaningful post, and touches one reason many people discover the muse.
I am just checking in, although it is painful to admit how far behind I am on poems (get it). Life and school and preparing for Hanna have taken up too much of my time. This weekend I intend to get caught up on some major poetry time if I have to do it by candlelight!
This is difficult for me, simply because I am really a *cold hearted/calm/logical person. Strong emotions are really quite alien to me, and fortunately, my life’s been a blessing so far. So here’s my somewhat fictional piece, which probably doesn’t really fit the probe of the day….*ruefully*
Also, let me add that my mother is a wonderful loving mom! =)
*******************************
Mothers!
My mother frequently tells me to do this and that
Interfacing her words with what our neighbor’s daughter does
And the numerous filial deeds of our third auntie’s fourth daughter
The perfect Asian daughter, wife and companion
My mother frequently scolds me for being the rebel
And laments my lack of beauty and grace
For failing to find the perfect provider
Who will be such a marvelous son-in-law
My mother frequently runs the guilt trip
With a special concentration on emotional blackmail
So that I will do what she deems as proper
And live the ideal Asian dream
But what constitute the ideal life
The perfect vision
Of the perfect daughter
My mother never really decided.
@sheer:
There is no need to be in a hurry tpo experience pain. Life has plenty to go around. Be patient, Life will bring you your full measure in time.
@the rest…
The following is an except from a poem I posted to the private forum:
You peddle hard down deadman’s curve:
Heaving, breathing, with plastered hair!
An unexpected rock, you swerve:
Wincing, holding, becomes your care.
Is the thriling joyous bash
worth the stinging, oozing gash?
@ James
The prompt says any strong emtotion. Don’t deal with pain if you don’t want to. It is not my intention to make people write about topics they don’t want to write about.
@James
I think it’s not only that focusing on the pain itself is too painful, but also that it risks cliché and not communicating the nuances of the situation — especially if one is writing *while* going through a painful experience.
Focusing on the more tangible things surrounding the pain gives the poet a chance to paint an image that, if written poignantly, will carry the reader into his experience.
I’ve written a lot of poems about pain this year! So I’ll go for something different.
Happy Birthday
On your very first birthday
what did I give you,
knowing I gave?
A long journey
twelve hours, exhausting.
The briefest touch of my arms.
And instant recognition:
you could only be mine,
with those family features.
I gave you
a mother too tired
to hold you long that first time,
one who couldn’t feed you,
but could later cuddle, talk to you, rock
once we got the bottle right.
Much later I discovered
other things I gave you
from the first –
a love of poetry
and the gift to write it
from my Dad and his Dad and me
and music, not from
but through me,
one of my mother’s talents.
Now you’re 41
in just a few days.
I can’t believe it.
It’s hard to know what
I might give you this birthday.
Usually I don’t, just a call
or an email. We always say
we don’t need words –
we who love them.
And these days it’s you
who finds gifts for me,
nearly always a perfect book.
Rosemary Nissen-Wade (aka SnakyPoet)s last blog post..The Quick and Painless Enneagram Test
@ Rosemary: I loved your piece! *Salute to all mothers.
And let me assure you, as a daughter, mothers always give more than they know and more than they realise.
@ James: Are u wishing me a full measure of pain? *affronted look*
Just kidding. I am not looking for pain, really. But you are right that life will bring a full measure of emotions. I only hope that through the years, I find more to smile about than to cry over. And I know I will, because it is a choice to always look on the bright side or to count one’s troubles. =)
@sheer:
No, I do not wish pain on anyone.
A positive atitiude and oulook go a long way in improving one’s personal experience. There is good in everything, including pain. Since passing through grief and pain, I have found that my joy is more exuisite and more appreciated.
@ Sheer. Thank you for all your kind words.
Rosemary Nissen-Wade (aka SnakyPoet)s last blog post..Facebook Reconsidered
Farewell
Wide white wingtips
touch light white clouds
in a wide blue sky
And my dry eyes weep
as I take my leave
of a love that was never
mine to keep.
Kicked Out
I unplugged my computer
My monitor
My mouse
Locked them in the trunk
Before I started on the rest
Just in case
I had a couple dozen books
Some DVDs
My Tivo
Those went next
I kept clenching my hands
The bed wasn’t mine
Not the TV or the stand either
I had a big metal rack
But I left it
As I started gathering my clothes
I heard wheels stopping short on the gravel
A cousin had come to watch me go
To make sure I left
He was friendly but watchful
An insurance policy against my potential
Theft or destruction or whatever
I piled my clothes into the back seat
And went to the kitchen for my prized milkshake maker
I left my plates and bowls
I left my silverware
I left everything I could leave
I got into my car
Watched as the cousin locked the door
Backed out of the driveway
And headed west
Eventually some of my assorted
Leftover
Crap
Would find me through family
A big box that I tossed in the trashbin
Without really looking
First day of school
A fingerprint card, some transcripts, some dispute
And then the License came to Substitute.
And then the call came, then the open door,
And then Miss Chambers’ class, Room 24.
The kids were bubbly, laughy, full of cheer,
And I called roll beneath a calm veneer,
And then I stumbled, and they got suspicious,
Then the Do Bees morphed into Pernicious,
And puddled sweat drained down into my ear,
And decades later, finely Free and Clear,
I signed the time card, lurched toward the rear–
“Hi, Mr. B!” –I Grinned from Ear to Ear.
Great tips! Yes, I am one of those people who express their pain through writing. Also, I notice that people in music like to express their pain through music. I can remember writing a lot as a child because I had a very strict mother. I wrote a lot about my pain as a child but I stop writing when I became an adult. I want to write a book about my life. I think it would really help.
i miss your touch
the caress that made me smile
gave me chills down my spine
i miss the kiss
that made me gasp
the memory of your tender lips
pressed warm against mine
i miss your stare
our eyes met as one whole
the thought i felt true love
i miss your empathy
towards my imaturity
that made me strong
i miss saying our last good by
enchanted, i sigh
i love you
Tears of the eyes only but
drips pains
The salty taste only a reminder;
that life itself is bitter sweet
Pain driving me crazy
Causing me to take pills till it fills up my veins
I go to sleep never to wake up and see the light
The light that will end my pain for good!
Pain
pain surrounds you day to day
nothing helps it go away
pain in muscles pain in joints
pain so bad in trigger points.
pain that comes and pain that goes
pain that keeps you on your toes.
pain that people think is in your head.
pain that people don’t know
when you sit in your bed wishing you were dead
pain that they will have to go through
pain they will have to see.
what it took to just be me.
pain I go through just at school
pain I wish will make me cool
pain that they will never see what it took to just be me
pain in your life
that makes you strive
to just survive
pain that it took
To just be me
pain i go through.
but people can’t see.
(a poem by leticia starkey)
You saw me huddled up in that corner and you asked me what was wrong I said “Nothing” as you walked away a tear fell down my cheek I whispered underneath my breath “everything that you cannot see”
goodbye
I heard you were sick before,
but I never understood
why they said you were fighting in a war,
I thought you would be there forever,
Never thought you’d leave us so soon.
I still found it hard to believe,
even after they told me late that afternoon.
I did’nt like the fact, that I would never see you again
Or that the last time I had seen you,
I just sat there and stared
At your fragile looking body,
an you oh so lack of hair.
and never said a word,
Never even cared.
and when it came time,
to say our final goodbyes
in the ol’ funeral parlor,
I wanted to stay home,
and enjoy my weekend off
But my mother forced me to go.
When we arrived, we all formed a stright line
First of course was your wife,
As she ran to your side.
Everyone in the room began to cry,
as she sobed out her last goodbye.
I just stood there, silent.
I had nothing to say,
no comforting words,
grieving or prey.
We drive in silence to your final resting place.
but when we arrive I see the hole
and my eyes become misty, as you
and your coffin are slowly being lowered in the ground
as the soldiers play their song,
And the sobs all get louder, as they lose their self control
and I still stand there, silent
holding back my tears.
They all say to be happy
cause now your finally free.
I don’t know if you made it,
or if you can see us with your own two eyes
but I hope you know this dear, dear uncle
Im just not good at saying goodbye.
vicious white sheets
hovering hoods
in darkness
bow adimitaly
speaking hate
adiment controversy
praising glory and
a burnt body
angile hanging
from a tree
crying murder