My Secret Garden – Reblogged 9/16/16

My Secret Garden – Reblogged

Tonight, I’ve reblogged my poem from 18 months ago, My Secret Garden. For those who follow my blog back to the 1st 30 Day Challenge last month, you will recall that my favorite book is “The Secret Garden” by Frances Hodgson Burnett. I read this book when I was a child about age 10 or 11 and I continue to read it periodically as well as watch the TV movies by the same title. I love the lessons that Mary learns and how she finds happiness, friendship, and joy in the secret garden that she discovers. If you haven’t read the book or watched the movie, I highly recommend that you take the time to do so. It will be time well spent.

In my poem, there is a contrast to the book because my secret garden was foreshadowed by my abuse experiences as a child. My garden did exist but was really a hidden away place back behind the fence in my back yard. Nobody went in there and it required crawling into it under some bushes and brush overgrowth, but it was all mine. No one knew about it and no one tried to visit me there. I was safe, although surrounded by weeds which I thought were flowers and bugs. To me, it was beautiful because my imagination made it so. To this day, 55 years later, I can recall it and how I felt like it was yesterday.

Feelings, of course, were nostalgic but juxtaposed by a sadness as well because I now know it was all fantasy and it did not stop the abuse, although I could escape for a while. Anyway, enjoy the poem.


My Secret Garden

,

 

My secret garden was much like yours.
I escaped daily to my garden alone;
dreaming dreams and wishing wishes.
But your’s was real, mine was fantasy.

Even on your darkest day, you escaped
leaving the pain behind, finding your joy.
My pain remained even in my secret place.
Pain embedded upon my inner soul forever.

Choices that you had were clear…stay, go.
My choices vague, boundariless, unsafe.
If fantasy remained my reality, I was lost.
If reality remained ever present, I was lost.

My secret garden was beautiful though lonely.
My hiding place safer but alone, isolated.
Your’s full of beauty, growth, friendships.
Your’s with merriment, laughter, life.

When you returned were you lonely?
When you closed the door were you sad?
I was…I was…I was…lonely…lonely…lonely…
I was…I was…I was…sad…sad…sad…

Do you have fond memories of that time?
Do you recall with fondness those times?
I don’t…I don’t…I don’t…I don’t…I don’t…
Yet, my secret garden allowed for survival.


As I wrote the poem tonight, I was filled with nostalgia and sadness; nostalgia for the memories that I had playing in my secret garden and sadness for the child who was being abused and felt the need to escape into her fantasy world.

To some extent, the feelings afterward were like a PTSD experience for me (have had this before) and left me a little shaken at first but then with some mindfulness meditation, I recooped and I am okay right now. Occasionally new memories (or should I say refreshed old memories) flash into my mind and I experience them as if I am still that age, remembering it for the first time, thus called PTSD. Have a good evening. I am off to bed for the night as it is 1:21 am here in Nashville, TN.

Goodnight,

Susan…

By the way, here is the theme song to “The Secret Garden: fro YouTube. It’s beautiful. Enjoy…Susan

Music 9/11/16

Music

Today, I choose to write about music which is both joyful and a comfort for me and I would venture to say most people. Very few people don’t have one genre of music that they enjoy if not several. I myself enjoy Christian, Country, Pop, and Jazz as well as instrumental piano and cello. I even venture into new-age music at times and Native American Indian drums and flute music. So, I hope that you enjoy my poem. Susan…

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Woodland Walks – A Haibun 9/1/16

Woodland Walks – A Haibun

Today’s poem is Woodland Walks – A Haibun. It has been a while since I have written a Haibun on the website for you so let me review the definition. According to Nature Writing – Writing and Enjoying Haibun 2015:

The rules for constructing a haibun are simple. Every haibun must begin with a title. Haibun prose is composed of terse, descriptive paragraphs, written in the first person singular. The text unfolds in the present moment, as though the experience is occurring now rather than yesterday or some time ago. In keeping with the simplicity of the accompanying haiku or tanka poem, all excessive words should be pared down or deleted. Nothing must ever be overstated.

The poetry never attempts to repeat, quote or explain the prose. Instead, the poetry reflects some aspect of the prose by introducing a different step in the narrative through a microburst of detail. Thus the poetry is a sort of juxtaposition – seemingly different yet somehow connected. It is the discovery of this link between the prose and the poetry that offers one of the great delights of the haibun form. The subtle twist provided by an elegantly envisaged link, adds much pleasure to our reading and listening.

Read about Haibun poetry and enjoy the changing season. Click To Tweet

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