The Song In My Eyes

[Voo]

The Song In My Eyes



The violin cries
And I catch each tearful note
In my outstretched listening hands
There they lay, sparkling like diamonds
Dazzling like dewdrops, sharp as swords
And healing like the potion of a medicine man.
I drink in the music
And let it fill me, overfill me, drown me
In it's beauty and heartbreak
A tidal wave of motion and emotion
That sweeps me clean of pain and sand
And deposits joy there on my empty shore
The musician pauses, bow in midair
And I voicelessly scream "No!"
And will him to continue playing until I am spent
Dissolved in tears and filled once more with hope
Hope that only beauty discovers
And beauty fills
The violin cries and the song in my eyes
Is composed, is played, is shared, is done.

by Voo

Feb 5, 2005 5 p.m.

[Diane]

Hi Voo,

You post poetry on here much faster than I can properly read it, so I just read your latest offering. A wonderful description of the beauty and power of the violin. Like a beautiful painting, a great piece of classical music flies straight from the source to your heart.

The violin cries and the song in my eyes
Is composed, is played, is shared, is done.

Beautiful.

Thanks,

Diane

[Voo]

Then I'll try to post more s l o w l y. Maybe one line at a time???
Thanks for your comment. This is one of my favorites. (and one of the few autobiographical poems I've written) The violin is the only instrument that can make me weep. If I ever meet a dark haired dark eyed man that plays the violin and loves my poetry, I will throw myself at his feet, nay, I will chain myself to his feet!!! haha

[lizzytysh]

Dear Voo ~

You've touched me with the way some music is able to move me so deeply, too, to the point of weeping. Even in the blues of John Mayall, there's a man, Sugar Cane Harris, that makes two songs ~ "Crying" and "Night Flyer" ~ soar with his violin. It's on the USA Union album, if you ever get a chance to listen. It's not the classical violin, in the sense that you speak, yet, I feel that same "No!" and "Please do more, don't let it end" when I hear it.

I can understand why this poem is one of your personal favourites. The song really does end up living through your eyes and the tears that fall from there. I love the images that you conjure and use, to bring the music and its tremendous impact on you to life. It's a very conclusive ending, and in its matter-of-factness, conversely ends up additionally emotional.

Perfect drawing that you've included as the visual for your poem.

~ Lizzy

[Voo]

So glad to find some true appreciators of poetry at last. But I must be careful. My head is ballooning with the compliments! Question! Are there any fans of "dark, supernatural prose" here? I used to have a paranormal site and posted some cool writings on there about monsters and vampires and "howling at the moon" scenarios. I'm wanting to start another website like that when I have the time. Anyone have any suggestions or websites I could contribute to until I get my own? I'm a very spiritual person and I love God with all my heart but I have a dark side I need to express sometimes too.
An example follows below:


SHADOWLING




DOWN IN THE MEADOW WHERE THE WHIPPOORWILL CALLS
AND THE WEEPING WILLOWS GROW
THE MOON STAYS FULL MOST EVERY NIGHT
AND THE GOBLIN WINDS DOTH BLOW.
THERE IS A SHADOWLING BOY, THEY SAY
LIVING IN THAT PLACE
THEY'VE HEARD HIM LAUGH AND SEEN HIS TRACKS
THOUGH NONE HAVE SEEN HIS FACE.
UP ON THE ROOF IN MIDNIGHT'S DARK
DOWN BY THE WISHING WELL
THEY SAY HE HAUNTS THE VILLAGE GREEN
THEY SAY HE COMES FROM HELL.
WHEN MISCHIEF IS DONE, THEY SAY HE'S THE ONE
WHEN SOMETHING IS FOUND AMISS
THEY SAY HE'S TO BLAME, THOUGH NONE KNOW HIS NAME
AND I'VE COME TO INQUIRE ABOUT THIS.
FOR MANY MOONS, I'VE SEARCHED THE MEADOWS
THE FOREST AND THE TREES
AND CALLED FOR HIM, THE SHADOWLING BOY
BUT NO ANSWER HAS COME FOR ME.
I BROUGHT HIM ROSES FOR PRESENTS
AND BREAD THAT I BAKED MYSELF
AND WHEN I TURNED 'ROUND AT THE WISP OF A SOUND
THERE WASN'T A CRUMB OF IT LEFT.
ONE NIGHT IN THE STORM AS I STOOD BY THE BROOK
AS THE DAY FADED INTO TOMORROW
I THOUGHT I HEARD A LONELY LOW CRY
AND I THOUGHT I FELT HIS SORROW.
IN THE LIGHTNING STRIKE, I SAW A SHADOW
AND THE SHADOW STOOD ALONE
I REACHED MY HAND OUT TO THE GHOST
BUT IN THE NEXT BREATH IT WAS GONE.
THE PEOPLE SAY HE'S EVIL
AND MALEVOLENT AND MEAN
BUT I DON'T THINK IT'S FAIR TO JUDGE
SOMEONE YOU'VE NEVER SEEN.
THE SHADOWLING BOY IS A FABLE, SOME SAY
AND OTHERS SAY, A MYTH
BUT I THINK HE'S REAL, IN MY HEART, I CAN FEEL
HE'S THE ONE THAT I WANT TO BE WITH.
I'LL SEARCH FOR HIM AS LONG AS IT TAKES
TILL THE END HAS TAKEN OVER THE WORLD
BUT THE THING YOU DON'T SEE 'CAUSE YOU CANNOT SEE ME
IS THAT I AM A SHADOWLING GIRL.


by Voo
copyright05

[lizzytysh]

OH, I LOOOVE THAT !!! And ESPECIALLY the lovely, surprize ending !!!

I think Ali's your girl on the question you have as to other, possible sites .

This one just 'took me there' ~ from childhood imaginations to possible realities of where the shadowlings really do lives! Perfect! And, again, I love the picture ~ since we all have our shadow selves, this poem also gives them a different kind of creedence they deserve. When we acknowledge and embrace them, we do so much better .

Love,
Lizzy

[Diane]

Hi Voo.

Then I'll try to post more s l o w l y. Maybe one line at a time???

Reading poetry, like the appreciation of beautiful violin music, requires a 'right brain'/ emotional/ intuitive mindset, and the ability to take time and reflect, doesn't it? Being on the computer and trying to keep track of postings, make some replies, often whilst working and answering emails and yahoo messages at the same time, leaves me disengaged from this state of mind, and I often find I cannot concentrate on poetry when I am on this site, even though there is plenty on here I would like to read.

So my comment is not about your speed of posting, Voo, but about the frame of mind I am in when I am here, and, probably, my bad priorities. So post away...

The violin is the only instrument that can make me weep. If I ever meet a dark haired dark eyed man that plays the violin and loves my poetry, I will throw myself at his feet, nay, I will chain myself to his feet!!! haha

I hope you meet the man . About 20 years ago I said that I would be unable to resist any man who sang me Bob Dylan's Lay Lady Lay (like he meant it of course). I'm still waiting...

I'm a very spiritual person and I love God with all my heart but I have a dark side I need to express sometimes too.

We all have a 'dark side', our shadow, as Jung described it. This is a fascinating topic. We are often completely unaware of the rejected parts of ourselves. One way of facing up to our shadow is to become aware of the things in other people that really annoy us. It is usually these traits that are rejected but crying for attention in ourselves.

When we acknowledge and embrace them, we do so much better .

You are right, of course, Lizzy. Also, it is the strength and darkness of our shadows that underlie so much of the conflict in the world:

If you imagine someone who is brave enough to withdraw all his projections, then you get an individual who is conscious of a pretty thick shadow. .. He lives in the "House of the Gathering." Such a man knows that whatever is wrong in the world is in himself, and if he only learns to deal with his own shadow he has done something real for the world. He has succeeded in shouldering at least an infinitesimal part of the gigantic, unsolved social problems of our day.

C G Jung

Your poem, Shadowling is excellent, Voo. You really do have a talent. I am so glad you are here on the LC forum.

I THOUGHT I HEARD A LONELY LOW CRY
AND I THOUGHT I FELT HIS SORROW.
IN THE LIGHTNING STRIKE, I SAW A SHADOW
AND THE SHADOW STOOD ALONE

Those lines are so very sad. The loneliness and sorrow of the parts of ourselves that we have never embraced is immense.

Here are a couple of poems, copied from Clarissa Pinkola Estes' Women Who Run With the Wolves, about claiming the 'badness' that is within us:

...one night
there's a heartbeat at the door
Outside a woman in the fog
with hair of hair of twigs and dress of weed
Dripping green lake water
She says "I am you,
and I have travelled a long distance,
Come with me , there is something I must show you..."
She turns to go, her cloak falls open,
Suddenly, golden light..., everywhere golden light...

Diving into the Wreck

There is a ladder
The ladder is always there
hanging innocently close to the side of the schooner...
I go down...
I came to explore the wreck...
I came to see the damage that was done
and the treasures that prevail...

Adrienne Rich

And here is a poem from Robert Bly's A Little Book on the Human Shadow, about the shadow our culture encourages us to cultivate:

The Busy Man Speaks

Not to the mother of solitude will I give myself
Away, not to the mother of love, nor to the mother of conversation,
Nor to the mother of art, nor the mother Of tears, nor the mother of the ocean;
Not to the mother of sorrow, nor the mother
Of the downcast face, nor the mother of the suffering of death
Not to the mother of the night full of crickets,
Nor the mother of the open fields, nor the mother of Christ.

But I will give myself to the father of righteousness, the father of cheerfulness,
who is also the father of rocks,
Who is also the father of perfect gestures;
From the Chase National Bank
An arm of flame has come, and I am drawn
to the desert, to the parched places, to the landscape of zeros;
And I shall give myself away to the father of righteousness,
The stones of cheerfulness, the steel of money, the father of rocks...

Love,

Diane

[lizzytysh]

I've not really studied Jung, but it seems to me if we accept and embrace those parts of ourselves, they will lose their need to keep screaming for attention and recognition by 'acting out' and manifesting themselves in the world. Our bodies and minds are so wise as to everything that's within. We just want to lock certain parts of ourselves away, and throw away the key, and that never works. It only makes it worse.

~ Lizzy

[Diane]

Hi Lizzy.

We just want to lock certain parts of ourselves away, and throw away the key, and that never works. It only makes it worse.

Absolutely. To me it seems that different 'schools' of psychology pretty much use different metaphors for the same thing, in this case the rejected parts of the self. Jung uses the concept of the shadow. It's quite an interesting metaphor. Here's the encycl. definition:

The shadow represents everything that the conscious person does not wish to acknowledge within themselves. For instance, someone who identifies as being kind has a shadow that is harsh or unkind. Conversely, an individual who is brutal has a kind shadow. The shadow is not necessarily good or bad. It simply counterbalances some of the one-sided dimensions of our personality. Jung emphasized the importance of being aware of shadow material and incorporating it into conscious awareness. Otherwise we project these attributes onto others.

Contemporary examples include religious zealots who project their own hatred onto other religions or groups, accusing them of the very thing that they are unable to accept within themselves. Another potent example of shadow projection is seeing in another person, with whom one is infatuated, good that one refuses to see in oneself. To gain access and awareness of one's shadow, one should carefully consider those qualities in another that repulse or disgust oneself. This can allow access to the underdeveloped aspects of personality that represent the shadow.

Whilst on the subject of hidden personalities, I had been wondering why I appear as online on the forum, but most others do not. Today I checked and found the button and now I have pressed it too. Interesting, the extent to which we like to remain hidden from each other .

Diane