Acintya Shenoy, Week #14: brushstrokes of youth
Please listen to the following music as you read.
and so i hung the white linen, swaying
in the wind, pliant, and freshly cool, and
soft with a gentle caress.
bites of cold across
washed skin. there’s a bird cawing in the
distance between the hands that hold
us and what we share,
what we were. the blue sky turned gray
with longing as i looked to the young
sprouts of grass, fresh in
innocence and desire and conquering the vast underground;
heads trampled by passersby without a care,
ignorance of what lies above for what might be elsewhere in
the depths of bliss or the uncertainty of the clouds than
impossibility…
for that which we cannot see and cannot reach
cannot touch what once was.
what is left of those shards of green are stains upon
a muddy floor as it dries,
hands pushing wet sugar down a plastic cup.
i long for every day what is suspended
like porous bones in river water
in the itchy fabrics of time and memory
for the electricity of a human touch on the hand. i long for
the graze of cold, unforgiving air on wet hair, of dust
clinging to wet feet, of the fragments of a forgotten face immortalized
on peeling walls and tearing threads.
there is a white linen dress in the back of the wooden closet
that has grown moss and mold from the relentless rain.
no needles, no wool, no hope will stitch it together.
i long for white of canine teeth and bloodshot eyes
and pitiful scraps of snow lining the front porch.
Wow Acintya, that was beautiful! Your poem was so full of imagery and symbolism. When I read it I could picture children running through a meadow weaving through the linen sheets hanging up to dry and hear the children’s laughter. I love the use of all the symbolism to childhood such as the porus bones in river water which I interpreted as the curiosity of childhood and absorption of knowledge. There were many others such as the electric shock of a human hand which I interpreted as the decrease in parental guidance as you become older and must find your own way in the world.
ReplyDeleteThe choice of music added a great auditory element to the poem. It had a quick airy tone which added to the poem's overall tone of bittersweet nostalgia. There was also a moment where the music switched from its usual quick tempo to this soft, barely there, whisper of notes which fit in well with the moment in your poem where it changes from the fond memories to the forgotten dress in the closet. Then both the music and poem go back to the light quick tone which carries out until the end. I thoroughly enjoyed reading this poem and I can’t wait to see what you write next!
Hi Acintya, every week you amaze me with the quality of your blogs. Here is my interpretation of your poem and I would love to hear the actual meaning, from the poet’s own words.
ReplyDeleteWhen I listened to the music while reading the poem, it made me feel like time was fleeting. I feel like it was to emphasize the title, “brushstrokes of youth” where every word and every phrase will be gone as time passes. The short, almost rhythmic phrases and how there are run-on sentences makes me believe that the person is almost running out of time and is forced to continue later; on the next line. The usage of only lowercase letters with no capitalization highlights to me youth and how the narrator never truly grows up and they are still waiting, continuously “long[ing] for white.” The narrator is stuck with “impossibility” and cannot move away from their memories. I love the usage of metaphors and symbolism throughout the poem. Including the “bird cawing” emphasizes to me the separation from the narrator who is taking “what we share.” The sky changing from “blue” to “gray” hints sadness and reinforces the interpretation that the narrator feels sad after painting all the “brush strokes of their youth.” Thanks Acintya for an unique blog, it has been some time since I analyzed a poem!.
Ooooo okay William Shakespeare you cooked formatting, writing, background music and tone for a simple blog post?? You’re making us all look bad here Acintya:( my 300 word blog on the Cheese Touch is currently hurting my ego as I compare it to this. All jokes aside though, this is genuinely a really amazing piece. The effort you’ve put into this seems so clear, and you touch on really important themes like growth and hope (along with memories of course). I think the most important part of this blog is the transition between the innocence and happiness experienced at times when we feel “bliss” and are protected from certain horrors of the world (like the “young sprouts of green” being “trampled” by passersby) towards the “relentless” sadness of reality (though that’s slightly depressing) with the rotting dress—that previously represented freshness and hope—and sharp longing for that period of bliss. The first thing this reminded me of was how people always consider their early years (up to around 30) the great years since their responsibilities were basically non-existent at the time compared to during adulthood. I do disagree with the notion that “no hope will stitch it together,” though, because I think that there are always ways to improve our lives and hope is essential to that, because to work towards something that could improve our lives we must have hope that that something could happen in the first place. It might just be that we have a cognitive bias against the “no hope” argument just because our brains are scared of that prospect, so there’s definitely some nuance to it. Thank you for an amazing piece!
ReplyDeleteThank you for including a lovely soundtrack for your piece this week! I am reminded of that time in DPS when Faith asked us all to close our eyes as she read her poem. Delicious! The disjointed syntax of your first stanza is especially impactful when paired with the music because it truly does feel like we are running through time (or perhaps from time…). Is this “memory” something you share with another person? I can’t help but wonder what you guys “were” and what you “share.” Your final lines are like cascading moments; isolated moments yet cohesive. The white linen is no longer pure, but stained by “canine teeth” and "bloodshot eyes.” This progression in your poem is reminiscent of your blog about lemons—from a pure memory to something very painful and poignant while leaving us, the readers, in mystery. My favorite line from this poem is “porous bones in river water.” It feels so textured!.
ReplyDeleteHave you read Sense and Sensibility, and do you recommend the Ang Lee movie? The scene from the movie you have included is very beautiful. Perhaps it inspired your poem, or was it the reverse, where you happened to find an image which perfectly represents the topic of this poem. I would love to know more about your creative process!
Thank you, Annie! The mention of "memory" in the poem is less about a singular shared past experience, and more of a void or chasm that shared experiences fall into. The speaker "long[s] for...what is suspended / ... / in the itchy fabrics of...memory"—in other words, it's not the memory itself they chase, but the thing that has been taken away from them because it has become a memory. I hope that makes sense, haha.
DeleteActually, I haven't read Sense and Sensibility nor have I watched the movie. I chose to include the screenshot because its imagery matched my poem: the white linen, the green grass, the gentle wind. My inspiration from this poem actually came from the soundtrack I linked, a piano arrangement of "Chasing Kou" from Yamato Yuki's 2016 film Oboreru Knife. It's been one of my favorite pieces of music for a long time, and the rushing feeling of the piano riffs gives me a feeling of nostalgia that I wanted to translate into poetry. A lot of my poems are inspired by other works of art and media; I usually take a theme or image from that work and extrapolate it into a poem of its own. I hope that adequately answers your question about my creative process!