I am not often a blocked prose poem fan; but with this one, you grabbed my attention and held it fast throughout. This is really well done, LeeAnn. And the truth it tells is a big achievement.
This is so powerful, LeeAnn. Somehow it feels just right that it’s a prose poem, too - like it couldn’t have been anything else. Like line breaks would be pretentious or distracting and the poem is more interested in just telling the truth.
A poem from the heart about the truth we denied to ourselves. I know, because I sat at that same table on a different day, in a different bar, in an altered state. I sat with a drinking companion. You understand what it means to surround yourself with like-minded "friends." In a moment of clarity, I said to the person with me, "You understand that we are just lying to ourselves, don't you?" That was the first step, but months away before going to that first meeting, a place where it was safe to tell the truth. And the truth allowed me to live for the first time truly.
Those moments of clarity are so precious. I didn't have mine until months later when I pawned my grandmother's watch and realized what I had done. It didn't stop me that night but it was the moment that led to me reaching out to my parents for help. Lovely to meet a fellow traveler.
Wow LeeAnn, such powerful work. There are those poems that touch your heart because they are so masterfully done and you can feel a kinship with them even though it is not a road you have walked. Then there are poems, like this one, that so perfectly illuminate a walk I am nauseatingly familiar with. The line, “sitting at that table going nowhere” hit with a punch. Thank you for writing from the other side of a tough path and writing it with such truth. I am 12 years sober and am even more grateful having read your work. Thank you.
The bridge between this line "Gave birth to dreams, not dreams coming true through the hard work, say, of putting pen to paper to write that book, but the dreaming itself" to the final line "I’m going places, sitting at that table going nowhere" stuck out to me. Many talk about dreams as this vision of a better future but when really thinking about what dreams are, dreams aren't reality. It's an idea not executed and therefore stagnant. Just like sitting at the table going nowhere. I really enjoyed this one, thanks for sharing!
I am not often a blocked prose poem fan; but with this one, you grabbed my attention and held it fast throughout. This is really well done, LeeAnn. And the truth it tells is a big achievement.
So. Well. Done.
Thank you so much, Kim. I love having you as a reader.
I sure do recognize every bit of that. Thanks
This is so powerful, LeeAnn. Somehow it feels just right that it’s a prose poem, too - like it couldn’t have been anything else. Like line breaks would be pretentious or distracting and the poem is more interested in just telling the truth.
Thank you so much, Lisa. I just needed to write it and keep going, so the prose poem fit.
Absolutely beautiful!
Thanks, Libby! So nice to hear from you.
A poem from the heart about the truth we denied to ourselves. I know, because I sat at that same table on a different day, in a different bar, in an altered state. I sat with a drinking companion. You understand what it means to surround yourself with like-minded "friends." In a moment of clarity, I said to the person with me, "You understand that we are just lying to ourselves, don't you?" That was the first step, but months away before going to that first meeting, a place where it was safe to tell the truth. And the truth allowed me to live for the first time truly.
Those moments of clarity are so precious. I didn't have mine until months later when I pawned my grandmother's watch and realized what I had done. It didn't stop me that night but it was the moment that led to me reaching out to my parents for help. Lovely to meet a fellow traveler.
Wow LeeAnn, such powerful work. There are those poems that touch your heart because they are so masterfully done and you can feel a kinship with them even though it is not a road you have walked. Then there are poems, like this one, that so perfectly illuminate a walk I am nauseatingly familiar with. The line, “sitting at that table going nowhere” hit with a punch. Thank you for writing from the other side of a tough path and writing it with such truth. I am 12 years sober and am even more grateful having read your work. Thank you.
Congratulations, Kate. Twelve years is awesome. So grateful to connect.
A poem of Healing. Honesty. Hope. Just beautiful LeeAnn.
Congratulations on all these years of sobriety. Truly something to treasure.
Powerful LeeAnn. Words from the wise. Amazing achievement those years since.
Powerful ... thought-provoking...thanks for sharing, LeeAnn.
Thanks so much for reading, Rajani.
Every line is true
Thirty-nine years is an achievement to be proud of.
The prose poem form tends to lose me, but this was powerful and the form fits the subject.
Thanks so much, Melanie.
I don't know you but I'm so proud of you. Not only is this poem spectacular but what you did is monumental. Keep making that monument!
Thanks so much, Mark.
What a powerful prose poem!
Whew. This poem--wow.
The bridge between this line "Gave birth to dreams, not dreams coming true through the hard work, say, of putting pen to paper to write that book, but the dreaming itself" to the final line "I’m going places, sitting at that table going nowhere" stuck out to me. Many talk about dreams as this vision of a better future but when really thinking about what dreams are, dreams aren't reality. It's an idea not executed and therefore stagnant. Just like sitting at the table going nowhere. I really enjoyed this one, thanks for sharing!