poems that hurt

She also writes poetryMargaret Atwood holds up a knife. She flashes it in the light of the reader. She traces it along the flesh and threatens violence but she never throws the knife nor does she inflict a wound. Occasionally a drop will surface perhaps this is her intent perhaps it isn't perhaps it was the reader's pulling of her tool too close. This vacillation between whether or not the cut was meant or merely the idea of the cut is precisely where Atwood' poetry succeeds. Violence is inherent in the world it is natural it can be gruesome blunt and bloody or simple quiet and clean. This is the loom upon which Atwood weaves. In her Selected Poems 1965-1975 we find a tapestry containing all possible combinations of these facets of violence. Throughout we find drowned sons and fires the blood of animals and humans menacing inner and outer warfare revolts rebellions. In Departures From The Bush the poem begins after a fire that has `erased' a bush and the eventual occupation of said bush by animals the fear involved in that occupation the bareness of the limbs the strange glowing eyes of the creatures that have made the burnt bush their home. In The Animals Of That Country there are images of a slain bull wolves looming in the thick forests and finally a statement on the lack of elegance in death especially in the deaths of the nameless. There is also the slow violence of withering and aging into death or history as in Elegy For The Giant Tortoises and The Death Of The Other Children both poems evoke the erosion upon a body by life. In all the selections of Circe/Mud Poems. Atwood explores the violent nature of choice and how the very act of choosing one thing over another leaves the unchosen in a coffin. But again Atwood leaves it to the reader as to whether or not there will be blood "I made no choice. I decided nothing." And to Odysseus "will you hurt me? if you do I will fear you if you don't I will despise you to be feared to be despised these are your choices."If violences are the consonants then transformations are the vowels. It is these two parts that form the words of Atwood's language. She transforms herself into a mirror repeatedly as well as a heraldic emblem in the poem of the same title she also transforms herself into Circe as well as transforming her subjects into Cyclopes and fortresses and hunters as well as an entire selection of poems called Songs Of The Transformed in which she gives the reader a first person account of being among other things worms a siren a bull a fox and pig and an owl that is "the heart of a murdered woman who took the wrong way home who was strangled in a vacant lot and not buried who was shot with care beneath a tree. ." The first words of each line in the first stanza beginning with `who'. For Atwood there is always in the poem it seems a consideration of what is not being said. A nod to the universes created by the negative space what one could do and the nature of that possibility in regard to the possibility that one could though may not. This seems too to be evident in the subjects she chooses as well the animals that she is not the mirror that she could not possibly be the songs and elegies of those that lie in pauper's graves. There could be no there is an entire song there in the anonymous worms a rebellion beneath our feet there is Circe's side to the story there is the reflection's tale to tell. In a literary environment that sometimes seems to reach too far into the viscera or too far in the other direction it is refreshing to read something that seems to meet itself halfway between the guts and great unknown. For it seems to Atwood that there is no better way to find the self than to become something else and look back at oneself through those eyes even though those eyes are still irrevocably one's own. This attachment through detachment is a transformation wrought violently between the self and the other transformation is violent even if it is not covered in blood and screaming into death beneath the moonlight. Or maybe it is. Atwood begs you to decide she has flashed us the knife she has shown us the weapon it is up to us to decide the rest.

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She also writes poetryMargaret Atwood holds up a knife. She flashes it in the light of the reader. She traces it along the flesh and threatens violence but she never throws the knife nor does she inflict a wound. Occasionally a drop will surface perhaps this is her intent perhaps it isn't perhaps it was the reader's pulling of her tool too close. This vacillation between whether or not the cut was meant or merely the idea of the cut is precisely where Atwood' poetry succeeds. Violence is inherent in the world it is natural it can be gruesome blunt and bloody or simple quiet and clean. This is the loom upon which Atwood weaves. In her Selected Poems 1965-1975 we find a tapestry containing all possible combinations of these facets of violence. Throughout we find drowned sons and fires the blood of animals and humans menacing inner and outer warfare revolts rebellions. In Departures From The Bush the poem begins after a fire that has `erased' a bush and the eventual occupation of said bush by animals the fear involved in that occupation the bareness of the limbs the strange glowing eyes of the creatures that have made the burnt bush their home. In The Animals Of That Country there are images of a slain bull wolves looming in the thick forests and finally a statement on the lack of elegance in death especially in the deaths of the nameless. There is also the slow violence of withering and aging into death or history as in Elegy For The Giant Tortoises and The Death Of The Other Children both poems evoke the erosion upon a body by life. In all the selections of Circe/Mud Poems. Atwood explores the violent nature of choice and how the very act of choosing one thing over another leaves the unchosen in a coffin. But again Atwood leaves it to the reader as to whether or not there will be blood "I made no choice. I decided nothing." And to Odysseus "will you hurt me? if you do I will fear you if you don't I will despise you to be feared to be despised these are your choices."If violences are the consonants then transformations are the vowels. It is these two parts that form the words of Atwood's language. She transforms herself into a mirror repeatedly as well as a heraldic emblem in the poem of the same title she also transforms herself into Circe as well as transforming her subjects into Cyclopes and fortresses and hunters as well as an entire selection of poems called Songs Of The Transformed in which she gives the reader a first person account of being among other things worms a siren a bull a fox and pig and an owl that is "the heart of a murdered woman who took the wrong way home who was strangled in a vacant lot and not buried who was shot with care beneath a tree. ." The first words of each line in the first stanza beginning with `who'. For Atwood there is always in the poem it seems a consideration of what is not being said. A nod to the universes created by the negative space what one could do and the nature of that possibility in regard to the possibility that one could though may not. This seems too to be evident in the subjects she chooses as well the animals that she is not the mirror that she could not possibly be the songs and elegies of those that lie in pauper's graves. There could be no there is an entire song there in the anonymous worms a rebellion beneath our feet there is Circe's side to the story there is the reflection's tale to tell. In a literary environment that sometimes seems to reach too far into the viscera or too far in the other direction it is refreshing to read something that seems to meet itself halfway between the guts and great unknown. For it seems to Atwood that there is no better way to find the self than to become something else and look back at oneself through those eyes even though those eyes are still irrevocably one's own. This attachment through detachment is a transformation wrought violently between the self and the other transformation is violent even if it is not covered in blood and screaming into death beneath the moonlight. Or maybe it is. Atwood begs you to decide she has flashed us the knife she has shown us the weapon it is up to us to decide the rest.

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Express Yourself. Share Your Life. Connect with Friends Online You can use LiveJournal in many ways: a private journal a blog a discussion forum or a social network. A community for Quick Tales a Flash Fiction contest open to those with a mailing address in India. Looking to practice your language skills? offers users a way to find journals written in a language other than their own. This collaborative screenwriting community will accomplish an entire film script--each scene by a different writer--over the course of one year. It's destined to be crazy. Along the way a slew of smaller challenges will be offered. Your favorite community here. Photos from your lifeWith our Photobucket integration you can access all your photos without leaving LJ. What's in a name? Think you have the worst username ever? Find recently purged usernames for your journal. Looking for something new to read?See what people are posting on LiveJournal right now. Quick Tales Flash Fiction ContestLive in India and can tell a great story in under 500 words? Enter this Flash Fiction contest!

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Express Yourself. Share Your Life. Connect with Friends Online You can use LiveJournal in many ways: a private journal a blog a discussion forum or a social network. A community for Quick Tales a Flash Fiction contest open to those with a mailing address in India. Looking to practice your language skills? offers users a way to find journals written in a language other than their own. This collaborative screenwriting community will accomplish an entire film script--each scene by a different writer--over the course of one year. It's destined to be crazy. Along the way a slew of smaller challenges will be offered. Your favorite community here. Photos from your lifeWith our Photobucket integration you can access all your photos without leaving LJ. What's in a name? Think you have the worst username ever? Find recently purged usernames for your journal. Looking for something new to read?See what people are posting on LiveJournal right now. Quick Tales Flash Fiction ContestLive in India and can tell a great story in under 500 words? Enter this Flash Fiction contest!

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Articles are needed on these topics: • Battle of the Books• Spelling Bee• FTA• Academic Decathlon• Close-up• Ski• Basketball• ASTE Conference• Iditarod Screaming voices for happinesspeople running to each other for hugssmiling as much as your approach can holdtears of joy mad yelling tears badly hurtthrowing a temper,hittingpunching crying for helpfrustrated like you’ve failed a testpush hit in the face cold hearted angry,talking about beating up a person like it’s casual everyday talk bad looks gathering like an angry mobhearts slamming shutslapped in the face lava flowing desire a rivervents blowing out on a side of a mountainhotburning trees downdestroying the plantslava ejecting out like a scream XHTML: You can use these tags: <a href="" call=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <label> <em> <i> <strike> <strong> To be considered for The Nome Nugget edition of StraitTalk get your articles posted by March 31st.

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u judged me fOr asingle mistake u insulted me as if i am your servant u told me those wOrdsnO One wOuld've wantedtO hear. U shouted before me.. u caused me pain.. without any reason..... without even knowing if that person doesn't experience you then never let this person hurt you ever LoveLandia site is in BETA mode your reports & suggestions.

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Wandering eyes Hugs that went longer than usualAddressing women with. Hi BeautifulUnaware that any of the above bothered you. My attempts to capture your heartWere swayed from the startUnbeknownst to me all of the above played a partYou said I was a flirtYou also stated for that reason there was potential for you to get hurtTherefore you and I would never workFinally realising that you might be the one that measure statement kind of hurtMaybe. I'm not a jealous person.. those were your wordsI said fine... I called you every free moment.. text so much... changed my plan to unlimitedLet's be alter... HE cause to be perceived YOU!That's the reason why You examineEverySingleThingIDoYou expressed yourself as if you were emotionally freeMorals?CheckSelf esteem?CheckStill book as hellBut I see through that desire an Egyptian VeilI'm a lot wiser than cuteI'm starting to suffer for the pain that he caused youNo be to look over my shoulder OrAct as if what I do doesn't matterYou have a lot to live up to.... You said you loved MEAnd I see that that emotion only resides in hearts that are freeDon't fight the emotion shared by you and himLights go dimI'm fine withThe lack of relations since you seem contentI just had to vent... now I back to me again... You?come up you can go onLoving him... Damn C. I'm sorry!!!!!!!!! I'mma get it 2getha..... I know you ova there waiting for me to get it thru my continue.. naw. I'm juss playin' I luv this write. I evaluate I needed to construe it bcuz my piece is dealing w/ a sista who is going thru everythin you just wrote about.. Luv it...100strz...

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Kevin Crustacean: Last week I was walking along taking my usual stroll on the North Sea floor when suddenly a great heap of dead codfish landed on me! hit! It was terrible! It took me five minutes to tunnel through the sand to get out from under the codfish and I was just dusting myself off so to speak when another great codfish came falling through the sea and almost squashed me! It’s not safe to go for strolls on the surprise of the North Sea anymore! Corri Crustacean: Well you know it’s the E. U fishing quota system that is the cause of all the fish falling on our heads! A crustacean simply isn’t safe to walk about anymore what with dead fish raining drink in the North Sea and falling on our heads! When humans catch look for …the fish ought to stay caught! Corri Crustacean: come up it’s not the fault of the men in the boats! They are forced to impel the fish back into the sea because of the E. U quota system and it must be hard on the men on the boats to be forced to throw fish back into the sea because they know perfectly well that codfish are selling for 13 pounds per kilogram on the market and all of those men undergo families to cater. The British humans on the boats aren’t bobbing about up there on those waves just for their health or for fun or for the fresh air you know. They have families to feed. Kevin Crustacean: 5000 in-shore boats undergo to throw approve cod. Did you know that?! Super Trollers have to impel back cod. For every box of fish that they catch they undergo throw another box overboard! The humans on the top of the wet are being forced to throw dead and dying fish into the North Sea and it’s all because of the quite bizarre rules of the E. U quota system. Kevin Crustacean: That’s silly! Humans eat look for! The solution is not for humans to stop eating fish and the solution is not for humans to impel dying fish into the sea. The E. U quota laws are bizarre. The fishermen are upset and they must find it really hard to be forced to throw dying fish into the sea. A cuttlefish told me that the fishermen all be very depressed when they have to throw fish approve into the sea! I don’t blame them at all. It’s the E. U quota laws and the fact that because of E. U laws and the plans set-up by the E. U quota laws……. the ludicrous bottom lie is that dying look for are being put into the North Sea. Corri Crustacean: All I experience is that while the humans try to figure out the quite bizarre E. U quota laws and while the British fishermen are at the mercy of the bizarre E. U quota laws…… great whopping dying fish are being rained drink on my head whenever I try to take a walk on the floor of the sea! I’m starting to get migraines!

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A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEEDBUT like YOU AINT NO FRIEND OF MINEWHY WOULD A FRIEND LET YOU GET HURTTIME AFTER TIME AFTER TIMELOVE YOU AINT NO FRIEND YOU PROMISED GOOD THINGS TO MESO HOW COME EVERYTIME I LET YOU IN YOU cause to be perceived ME SO EASILYWHY DO YOU DO THIS,LOVE,WHAT DO YOU bring home the bacon?DOES IT MAKE YOU HAPPY TO SEE MY HEART GREIVE??ITS BEEN DAYLIGHT ROBBERY AND YOU STOOD THERE AND DONE NOTHINGWHAT KIND OF FRIEND DOES THAT,LOVE,LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING,I'M NOT LETTING YOU approve IN LOVE,NOT NOW,NOT AGAINI'M TIRED OF THIS cause to be perceived,THESE TEARS,THIS PAINITS TIME I MOVED ON FROM YOU,like,AND MADE A FRESH STARTI GOTTA NEW FRIEND NOW WHOS CAPTURED MY HEARTHE CALLS HIMSELF dislike AND SAYS HE CAN HELP MESO I THINK I MIGHT JUST LET HIM GO AHEAD AND TRY TO HEAL MESEE YOU CANT MEND MY HEART,LOVE,NO,COS YOU HURT MEBECAUSE TOO MANY TIMES,like,YOU WENT TO DISURT MEWHAT DID I DO TO YOU,like,FOR YOU TO BE LIKE THISI NEVER WAS BAD TO YOU. BUT YOU REALLY TOOK THA PISSSO I'M LEAVING YOU NOW. NO TURNING BACK THIS TIMEI GOT MY NEW FRIEND,HATE. AND TOGETHER WE'LL RIDEDONT go BACK TO ME like,COS IT'LL BE A expend OF TIMESO THIS IS IT.... THE FINAL GOODBYE wowwww i was seriously feelin this one mad deep and I like all of the emotion that you put into it it seemed to be some arouse and frustration in it of cover. I know how you conclude though i see what you're saying with this one things juss get so crazy and cram sometimes it seems that like isn't really a good thing. left confused because we see movies and construe stories about some love thatz sooo friggin powerful. but then we comprehend even more stories about broken hearts and cram and then somet... wowwww i was seriously feelin this one mad deep and I like all of the emotion that you put into it it seemed to be some arouse and frustration in it of course. I experience how you conclude though i see what you're saying with this one things juss get so crazy and cram sometimes it seems that love isn't really a good thing. left confused because we see movies and construe stories about some like thatz sooo friggin powerful. but then we hear even more stories about broken hearts and stuff and then sometimes people juss dont experience the difference between loving someone and bein IN love ya know i be confused feelin so hurt by love then another boy comes along and im feelin him then i see a possibility that those forever lasting love stories just might be true ya experience. anywayz great poem ten stars come up written and beautiful words definitely goin on my favorites enumerate. :]analyse me out sometime♥Rissa

It dribbles desire rainthese day to day crisesspattering against the windshieldtill you're alter to anything elseSkidding on unsteady wheelsthis is not your road anymoreThe rear lights of the carahead are brighter than the lineson the pavement and you followthem senselessly until you've lost your wayThe communicate is drenched bypuddles screaming as you slice through themYou should go slower butthe car behind is tailgaiting pushin you onwardand its presence is almost as terrifyingas the unseen road ahead. A bird cackles cheerfullyStones are silent at my feetMachine whirring incomprehensiblyStill and half and hour left before classThe sun is dim and delicateNo life other than the laughing birdIt is too early for all of thisDread and exhaustion remind meThat the day has yet to begin Turning my chinto let the lighten admirethe anglesI cannot help but ponderwhy some days I am gorgeousand others I appear hideousWhich subjective observationholds more truth?Do people see my scarsor my smiles?My zits or my freckles?Can they see the things about methat I cannot hold back?Do they see what I cannot?The things that I've unknowinglybut carefully hidden on my face? Boredom is the motherof all random ideasmade to flourishgiven ample time and carenutured lovingly and carefullyin the hours of consciousnessUnfortunately boredomis also the destroyer of desire I meant to say I'm sorryfor all the hurt I causedI didn't mean to let thosehalf truths change surface pauseat your earsAvoiding you afterwardswas not the smartest thing to doI know you hold grudgesI should have went to comfort youWe'll always be best friendsthat will never changeSo gratify allow me a chanceto make amendsThere's no one else for whomI would try so hard to do the same

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