Mystery Poem by Nika McGuin

Mystery

Rating: 2.8


my face
pale and sallow
my eyes
scant and foreign
this heart
so off and on
this depression
unreasonable and strange
my solitude
both caress and gun shot
but these tears
don't flow
and my life still
joy, sadness, mystery

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Wasn't sure I should even submit this one, because its kind of personal, and other people don't usually relate to things that are too personal. But then again, arent all poems a bit personal?
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Daniel Brick 24 July 2014

I agree every poem has a personal core and if a poem speaks to us it's because we have sensed that core and realized it reflects ours. And your poem about the paralysis caused by depression expresses the crisis of our interior life confused by the mysterious interplay of joy and sadness. The speaker is so perceptive about her condition; she knows her passivity must be overcome, for example, by flowing tears. She knows her solitude is dangerously poised between caress and gun shot. I'm confident she's ready to break out of this paralysis.

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Daniel Brick 10 March 2014

Hi Nika I agree 100% with your statement that arent all poems a bit personal It's the personal viewpoint we want to get. So you have to decide for yourself: Do I share this or not? Based on the comments to your poems I have read, the people reading your poems are people you can trust, they appreciate your insights. So it's a risk worth taking. And you will probably express something latent but unspoken within them. As in this poem: in the last line you show the mystery of self: joy, sadness, mystery. The mystery is that opposites exist side by side but don't cancel each other; in fact, they must provide different but necessary psychological energy. We need both. Your poem builds a rhythm of things in tandem which climaxes in that last line. I wouldn't have reached that conclusion without the poem behind it. That's what your personal poem gave me.

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Thomas Donnelly 13 February 2014

Poetry, at least to me, is giving something to others, most often something that lies hidden until it emerges. Poems like this express that greatly; a snippet of something personal - wonderful! The personal ones are the ones that say the most. I should start writing again. Its a shame I simply cant get inspired any more. It will come back, I'm sure.

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