For We Write Poems #20 Exceptions To The Rules
http://wewritepoems.wordpress.com/
An Exception
If a thing is expendable
it is considered less than,
to be tossed aside, thrown
away, forgotten, of no
immediate value, perhaps
unredeemable.
Unremarkable, not worthy
of note, or an affectionate stroke
of thought or action. Something
broken, mere token of insignificance,
not an affordable chance,
or a dance worth the effort
of doing. Certainly not a thing
to be spoken about, let alone
be embraced, lacking grace
that might give it a face,
a countenance that might
be remembered.
I see her, all around me
in people met, sometimes
only in passing. Know
that core of blue that abides
at center of her being.
Choose to stand up, to defend,
with last living breath, her right
to spread wings, to sing whatever
song invested, that will express
that which is wild within her.
Be aware that the throw-away
child resides inside of me, and all too
often, sees and knows that one in you.
Elizabeth Crawford 9/21/10
Soul's Music 
Well expressed. No part of a person is expendable….and hurrah for anyone who is able to spread wings and express what is wild within. Poetry is one means to do just that. Lots to think about here, as always, in your words. Always glad to see you spreading your wings.
Thank you Mary, I agree that no part is expendable, but so many dismiss their child within, and never realize just what they are throwing away. She is their creativity and so much more.
Elizabeth
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Your poetry releases that wild child. And beautifully so. Isn’t that a gift?
So many ramifications…
ode to un-punctuated verses
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Gautami, she has such beautiful wings, and is such a gift, one that keeps on giving. And yes, there are innumerable ramifications when she is suppressed. Most of them sad beyond reason. Thank you for encouragement, it is important to me,
Elizabeth
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Maybe we can be guilty of not letting the “wild” side show often enough but there’s always room for a little nonsense, to play.
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Derrick, I often find that the “wild” side has a great deal to offer in knowledge and wisdom that we often don’t consider because we have been taught to be “appropriate” as well as “adequate”. Nonsense and play are absolutely a must because it is there that we learn far better simply because we are relaxed and thus more receptive. Making poems is often play for me, but it is also a place where the wild in me comes out to meet and interact with all those rules that need to be challenged and sorted out. The ‘wild’ in me is what allows me to grow, to evolve, by constantly challenging me with the ‘whys’ of my existence and reality. Thanks for reading and commenting. This is always the fun part, as far as I and my wild side are concerned,
Elizabeth
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I am still Defiant Diane, lol. I guess as artists we all have that wild child within us. Glowing writing, Elizabeth!
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Thank you Diane. I believe everyone has that wild child within. She is the door to our creativity. And, to some, I will always be Betty, the renegade North Wisconsin hillbilly. They really don’t know what to do with Elizabeth. And that’s fine by me, I am both and more, lol.
Elizabeth
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Appreciate how opening builds to release of ‘wild child’ in second part of poem. Appreciate observation at how rules can stifle, overpower unnecessarily one’s expression/exploration of creativity, adventure into unknown. We can follow the rules too closely? Like the line, ‘to sing whatever song invested’.
For me, creativity is self-expression and the opening of ones mouth to express ones truth and reality is definitely a song sung by the very soul. It makes no difference the shape that song chooses to take, the task of releasing it, allowing it to rise and be heard, is the task of each individual. And yes, the rules are, to some extent, meant to bring about some level of conformity and conformity will kill creativity faster than any other element, because it must, to maintain itself, punish those individual differences.
Thanks Happy Flower,
Elizabeth
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Fantastic Elizabeth and the ending is perfect:
‘Be aware that the throw-away
child resides inside of me, and all too
often, sees and knows that one in you’
Pamela
I have always thought my reigning life myth was that of the Underdog. And although it does fit, I got somewhat sidetracked recently and kept running into The Throw-Away child. It fits far more readily than the other and I think that each of us owns such an entity, pieces and parts of ourselves we don’t choose to love as well as others, or dismiss for innumerable reasons. I believe she is often, the most essential aspect of our own creativity, and also have come to know that she is as hungry to come forward and be acknowledged as any child is. Thanks for your comments, Pamela,
Elizabeth
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I always adore, am honored, when something wild comes close to me, grants me that place within their space (and nice when they don’t want to eat me up!). Suppose that also includes what is also inside, a part of my own self.
Wild to wild, wouldn’t that be a world to imagine!
(Suppose too that my poem this time also touches on that in its way.)
And it is all so very close, more than we usually see. As sometimes a simple sight or scent or sense near takes my breath away, says here, drink this in, as right as perfect is, always is. Hard to hold, but then wild is not “holding” anyway but being open instead. As usual, your poem invokes so much. Thank you Elizabeth.
And all good thoughts with you this day. Well-being, but then really, you already are.
~neil
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Neil, you remind me of an evening long ago, when we went to hear Robert Bly read his poetry and speak about his prose book, Iron John. He was such a captivating personality and he spoke of the need for each man to find that Wild Man within himself. When he stopped speaking and asked for questions, a woman in the audience got up and asked him what he thought would happen when the Wild Man met the Wild Woman. He grinned, laughed and winked at her and said, “I would think they’d get together and make a lot of beautiful wild babies.”
I think that was my first encounter with the whole concept of that which is wild within each of us. I had already created my Personal Mythology and it was peopled by wild creatures and some even wilder people. But, his words helped me to see something beyond the words themselves. Later when I explored Genie, The Wild Child, I was completely fascinated and began to put my own theories about the Wild Things together. They are those parts and pieces that get exiled outside of the socialization process we all go through while growing up and becoming ‘good little citizens’. They are not necessarily bad or even weak from living in the darkness beyond our conscious level. In fact, many of them thrive despite our neglect and dismissal. And what they express is often closer to our individual truth for having spent that time in exile. But, all too often our fear of their difference allows us to dismiss and toss them aside. And in that process make ourselves sick and dis-eased in many ways we do not understand.
Okay, she’s off the podium now, lol. Thank you my friend for your words and well wishes,
Elizabeth
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The poem hit me right where the ribcage ends and the belly begins — in the center, in the space where my throw-away child still lives. I’m still trying to convince her that the world has room — and a place — for her. She’s eight years old, frizzy haired, and just now grasping what Asperger’s really means. And she has wings. 🙂
But enough about me. What I am trying to say is that this is evocative, and as much as some may scoff at the idea of an inner child, very universal. Thank you for writing this.
-Nicole
Nicole, thank you for understanding right where this is coming from. And I know that many scoff at the concept, but that might be because it frightens them a bit. I know it did me at first, when I realized how many years I had not parented that child, but she was quick to forgive as most children are. Mine is a skinny scrawny Tom-boy with a ragged pony tail that is forever breaking its rubber-band bounds. I won’t ever forget the first time I met her. Thanks again, for stopping and commenting, we are glad to meet both of you,
Elizabeth
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Beautiful poem about accceptance and love (or lack there of). Love it!
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Judy, yes it can easily be seen as a lack of love, but I think some of that is simply lack of self-awareness and knowledge, which, I suppose, could also be interpreted in the same manner. I know that I wasn’t aware, then was a bit frightened by the awareness, but also knew the need, so took the risk and there has been love ever since. The most rewarding kind. Thanks for reading and commenting,
Elizabeth
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I so LIKE this Poem! All but the last line… There (in my opinion) IS NO “throw away child”… nor childhood, as they are the roots of us all, so Blessed to Live beyond them! As a child, we see Life undaunted and unincumbered(?) by the influences of “our” world that “taint” and shape us as we age -sadly by more negative usually than positive-! Youth is a Blessing to all those who share in it, whether by those who are young, or those of us “old enough” to look on and appreciate what we no longer have.
Beyond that Elizabeth, I connected with every portion of it, and I hope my “disagreement” with the ending doesn’t “taint” the collective whole, for it is otherwise a great bit of work, that is easy to “get in to” and feel a part of, which is the directive (I think) of all of us writers, as we struggle to be understood! 🙂
Again, Well done! And I hope I didn’t miss the point… 🙂
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Hello Elron, how’s the journey going? Hope it takes you where you want to go. And whether or not you missed the point is dependent on what you perceive as the “throw-away” child. I don’t mean a child tossed out by society, peer group, parents, or siblings. I mean the child within me that I threw away, ignored, and dismissed to my own detriment. The ending is a celebration. She now lives and abides in me and sees herself in many others who still refuse to accept, acknowledge, and love her, right there within themselves. She is what dances on these pages, sings these songs and finds the music in each moment. Be safe and be careful, and thanks so much for taking the time to read and comment,
Elizabeth
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