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The Cold, Bitter Soul

by TheScribe


I can't say sorry enough.
The winds howl in my ears what I have done wrong—
my soul cannot escape its sorrows,
my mind remembers every moment in the silence
that follows every conversation.
Regret follows every move made,
every thought, every word, every sound—
I am not guilt-free, free of conscience, free of mind.
I thought I was, for I had found some peace,
nurtured it for a time.
But then the fertilizer stopped working,
the wells dried, the sun grew dark—
it died as a marigold withers in winter,
cold and alone. Peace now is found in
distractions, endless chores and
endless fights. My hands shake—
is it the cold or the emotion moving them?
Do I tremble from lack of warmth or
lack of hope? Godless, I am, and yet
with a God I am. Forsaken in some ways,
blessed in others. Who can say where my
road shall lead, away from or back to
those I hurt most?


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564 Reviews


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Reviews: 564

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Fri Jun 25, 2021 2:53 pm
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MailicedeNamedy wrote a review...



Hi TheScribe,

Mailice here with a short review! :D

This was a wonderful, plaintive poem with a lot of imagination. There was something ponderous about it but also a sense of renewal. At first impression it seems to tell of the grievances that plague a person, over all the years, but as you read on and begin to read a little between the lines, you realise that it goes deeper into a well than you think. I like how there is an ambiguity in the path you present here.

Funnily enough, I have to say that when I read your poem, the colour grey is constantly in front of my eyes. Even though there are moments where you can read a little hope, the overall picture is a very bleak and sad web of loss and depression.

I can't say sorry enough.
The winds howl in my ears what I have done wrong—
my soul cannot escape its sorrows,
my mind remembers every moment in the silence

The first thing that came to my mind here when I read the lines was being trapped. Trapped in one's own world, imprisoned in one's worries, a monumental mountain from which one cannot free oneself and yet the wind penetrates, which to me means as much as that there is a possibility of escaping from this prison, but one can no longer do it under one's own power. The soul has gained too much weight, like chains thrown around the narrator.

I thought I was, for I had found some peace,
nurtured it for a time.
But then the fertilizer stopped working,
the wells dried, the sun grew dark—
it died as a marigold withers in winter,

I really like how you manage to create a metaphor here and also describe it so vividly. It's that point in the poem where you feel a break, like the character can break free, but at the same time they sink in as that break gets bigger and becomes a ravine where the narrator falls in.

Peace now is found in
distractions, endless chores and
endless fights. My hands shake—

As the text seems rather dull, it has a very motivating and helpful effect here, as it again looks as if the person has found a solution that helps him to repress and not to forget.

I really like how the poem, towards the end, stands between a helpless helplessness and hope for improvement. It has motivation and optimism, as well as the pessimism. It shows me that the narrator here is so overwhelmed by all his pain that he has no solution left and is slowly saying goodbye to everything that is actually good. I see it as the loss of reality.

I really enjoyed reading the poem and reading between the lines. It had a positive effect of making you think and self-reflect a bit as a reader, despite the heaviness it had.

Have fun writing!

Mailice.




TheScribe says...


Thanks for the insightful review! <3



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Thu Jun 24, 2021 11:52 pm
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AlmostImmortal wrote a review...



Wow! That was really beautifully written. You had some nice imagery right there with "the winds howl in my ears" and "the wells dried, the sun grew dark". I could imagine drought and scathing wind with dirt that bites into your skin. The end of the poem strikes a lot of juxtaposition godless, but god-like, forsaken but blessed. It makes the narrator feel more complicated and more real. Near the middle, you touched on false security, and you did so very well. Because false security can feel very real in the moment but can and will suddenly give out and leave you with nothing, and you described that perfectly with the image of famine with the fertilizer and drought with the wells. All in all, you did a great job. The poem feels incredibly real and hums with emotion from start to finish. So, you did a lovely job, and I hope you keep writing. Cheers!




TheScribe says...


Thank you for the insightful review <3





Of course!



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Thu Jun 24, 2021 3:45 pm
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anne27 wrote a review...



Hi TheScribe!! I'm Anne here to review your work!!
This was so deep and full of details.

The poem was supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!!
The meaning was beautiful, relatable and extremely well-written. This has yo be one of the best poems I've read, no exaggeration! Bear with me, cause I'm going to leave a long review for this one.

I can't say sorry enough.
The winds howl in my ears what I have done wrong—
my soul cannot escape its sorrows,

A very neat start. The first line instantly catches the reader's attention because it sure is relatable. The wind howling is such a beautiful expression. The wind is everywhere, so the message I got from this line was that there is no place the narrator can be free from sorrows and guilt, except in a vacuum , where s/he will die. That is- only a graveyard is free of these sorrows.

my mind remembers every moment in the silence
that follows every conversation.
Regret follows every move made,
every thought, every word, every sound—

'Silence that follows every conversation' tells me that there has been very few or no conversations where narrator has felt no guilt. Or has not regretted his/her actions. Which also connects with the first lines, in a way that s/he now prefers to be alone, with just wind as his/her companion.

I am not guilt-free, free of conscience, free of mind.
I thought I was, for I had found some peace,
nurtured it for a time.

The mention of mind, guilt and conscience in a single line, points put to the poets belief that a human mind cannot never be guilty. And I do agree.

But then the fertilizer stopped working,
the wells dried, the sun grew dark—
it died as a marigold withers in winter,
cold and alone.

Here id like to point out something before starting, which is - the meaning of sun grew dark was a bit vague. I dint fully understand this expression. I think to say something covered or eclipsed the sun, would be more effective. Also because a dark sun would mean there's no hope for betterment, but a covered sun can always uncover its veil. Which would still mean that the narrator has lost hope right now, but it wouldn't then mean that he can't ever get it back.

I love the indirect reference to an external source that helped the narrator to attain the short lived peace. The mention of fertiliser for the plant, and sun for the sunflower, another plant- might look conflicting if used individually, one being the natural source and the other manmade. However, in this poem, it created such an amazing effect. Very creative!

Peace now is found in
distractions, endless chores and
endless fights. My hands shake—
is it the cold or the emotion moving them?
Do I tremble from lack of warmth or
lack of hope?

The contrast of finding peace in endless fight was so deep ! And true too. The self -questioning was so beautifully done.

Godless, I am, and yet
with a God I am. Forsaken in some ways,
blessed in others. Who can say where my
road shall lead, away from or back to
those I hurt most?

Ah!! These comparisons have to be my favorite part of the poem. And this also gives us a view of that flicker of hope, maybe. That the narrator still has a choice on how to think about life. Blessed or forsaken.
And yet- the fact that there's no map to guide the narrator which path leads to what, again gives that feeling of hopelessness, which like that guilt , we were temporarily relieved of. This was a great conclusion.

I honestly lived your poem. Keep writing more because you're really good at it!! :D




TheScribe says...


Thank you for your insightful review! <3



anne27 says...


Anytime :)




Anne felt that life was really not worth living without puffed sleeves.
— L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables