The Broken Heart of A Wife

”Wife”  by Ada Limon Writer’s Seminar Emulation :

“Housewife, fishwife, bad wife, good wife”

These are all the qualities that they say are in a wife.

The expectations climb high and no one worries to even blink an eye.

She is numb to the cold that swirls around her in spirals.

Everything is out of reach.

Everyone is blinded to her selfless and ambitious nature.

Her head is held down low, while words of aggression come hurtling towards her.

Despite all this,

She cooks all meals,

Provides for her children,

and scrubs every spot, until it feels clean,

just like her heart and soul that have been ripped in shreds for years.

Some often look at all the imperfections of a wife,

but in reality, all the good qualities are:

Compassion,

Loyalty,

and the Support she gives to all.


For this emulation, in relation to Ada Limon’s poem called “Wife”, I decided to take the approach of listing all the good qualities of a wife, instead of the poor ones that she had included in hers. I believe this poem uplifts women who are often in terrible situations in their own marriage. Often their hearts can be fixed if we all come to recognize all their good qualities that some may fail to see.

I also mentioned everything that a wife often provides to others whether it be from within her family, or outside. A wife can often have a bright, warming, and large heart for others, but when those pieces break, they are in dark places, and it is difficult to mend those pieces back together.

Featured Image Source: https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/two-takes-depression/201202/broken-heart-syndrome-its-real-and-its-rough

 

The Universe

The unknown.

Vast, empty, and infinite,

The stars, planets, and galaxies align.

 

The stars,

They often tend to fill a void of 

Sadness, 

Shame,

And sacrifice.

They are bright and particular, 

Shining and twinkling against the softness of the skin.

 

Planets

revolve just like thoughts circulating,

Just like silent whispers,

And heavy gusts of wind

With coldness filling the room with

Peace,

Perfection,

And power.

 

Galaxies.

Gas, dust, and billions of stars encompass space.

Just like the leaves that fall of trees swirl covering every patch of ground

Like the sea containing so many creatures,

yet we have only discovered the five percent,

What happened to the 95?

 

The unknown.

Vast, empty, and infinite,

The stars, planets, and galaxies align.


My poem, The Universe, touches on what we call the unknown. We have little knowledge of what is out there. I love how there is an infinite world or possible dimension that we know very little about, and I hope in my lifetime new discoveries come out expressing the truth. Ofen we get a sense of imagination of what is actually out there.

In my poem, I come to describe the different components of a universe. This includes the stars, the planets, and galaxies, and I metaphorically relate all of these to my life. I find the universe to be a beautiful thing as it seems so empty, but so full at the same time. I constantly wonder, what is out there before us. What other stars are unfamiliar to us? What other planets need to be discovered? What else do we not know about the place we were born in? Millions of these questions continue to circulate within my mind.

In addition, I have learned that sometimes the unknown makes us feel better because we have nothing to worry about.

Lastly, I made sure to repeat the first and last stanza’s to emphasize the point that I was making with the universe, and it is a way to describe how it actually is. I bolded the words such as the stars, planets, and galaxies to represent the main focus of the poem, and as just a way to include style to my piece.

Featured Image Source: http://hargasepedaterbaru.me/

The Echo: Monologue and Excerpt

Story Excerpt:

A sensation rises in on him. Shivers run deep down his spine, and his bareback lays upon the roughness of the bed. His legs feel stiff, in fact, they are anchored, and with every attempt to wiggle his toes feel laborious, and sometimes even impossible. With time passing by, he is slowly able to slightly lift a finger or move his head. Later the sensation reaches up towards his arms, and through the length of his legs. His eyes are closed, while he continues to process his deep sleep. He hears the dull tick of the clock, footsteps tapping, smelling the waft of hospital air. The sounds that make him alert are the cries he hears, feeling the presence of bodies not too far away from him. Beads of sweat run down his forehead and roll down towards the pillow and he shifts his head from side to side as if recovering from a feverish dream. With all the sudden events, his heart still beats softly.

He is very overwhelmed by the unknown individuals who cry over him by his hospital bed. The people who embrace and hug him, until he feels suffocated, in which panic circles his mind.

Not long after, his eyes slowly open, it is a struggle to keep them fully open as the over-pouring light makes him feel blinded. As he adjusts them, he is hardly able to see anything and as a result, the sound of footsteps begins to shuffle all around him, there is a lot of muffling that seems to occur, and he can not make out any of it. The cries become louder, as hands pull and touch every corner of his body, to examine any damage that has been done due to his life-threatening coma. Within a few minutes, he is finally able to fully open his eyes, shocked to see men in white coats, and surgical masks, poking at him in every direction.

He looks to his side, to see her staring at him. Other sides of the room are filled with strangers with worried faces. Questions begin to circulate through his brain: Who were these people and how did he get here? He tries to trace back his memory, but everything seems black, dark just like a monstrous sea in the unknown.

He makes his first attempt to utter his first word. His mouth moves, but the most he can get out is a sharp grunt, which no one around him seems to hear. Next, he tries to make a run away from all this mess that he still wonders how he bought himself into.

The only words that Alan can really hear from the doctors are: “memory loss”, “brain damage”, an “accident”.


Monologue:

This is another segment of the story, in which Alan speaks to the woman, he first sees in the hospital room.

“Do you remember just a few weeks ago, before I woke up from my coma? Your face was mostly filled with shock and disbelief. Tears had pulled and trickled down your cheeks, but despite everything, your eyes were locked onto mine, and a smile had spread wide on your face. Now that I look back, that’s the earliest memory I can think of, not my childhood and not attending middle or high school. I now find it quite funny how when I first laid eyes on you, I could not come to figure out who you were, and I stared at you blankly as the tears drip.

“Furthermore, you never truly know how it feels. To sit in this same body every day, but live completely separate lives at two different times. All I know is that my past life was dreadful, as some look at me in disbelief as I wander aimlessly down the streets observing the unfamiliar surroundings of my forgotten past; but, I do not think that I can ever touch on what exactly those past memories were. Please never tell me who I once was, I think it’s worth not knowing. I never want to think of my poor reputation, I just know it will never make me feel satisfied. Sometimes, part of me wonders if somebody would just tell me, inform me of my childhood, my brain can not seem to shape the images of riding a bike for the first time, playing sports, or getting my first car. I feel broken, inside and out, twisted reality of picturing the perfect life of never bringing myself into this situation.

“Promise me one thing, will you? Please do not inform me of what life used to be like. I want to live a new life. Escape from what was once known, to become respectable, and live on a greater reputation. Trust me on this because I know that I can make this possible. Listen to me because I know that you’re frightened just as much as I am.

 

Piano Boredom- Personal Narrative

My eleven year old self after school drove along the backseat with my brother and sister, my mom sitting in the passenger seat, and my dad driving. I was going to attend my first piano tutorial to see if I was going to pursue it as lessons in the future. As I gazed out the car’s window passed the small houses that all looked very similar, I could see the variety of colours seen in the warm, summer sky. Colours of purple, pink, and orange spread along the vast area of it with crystal clear clouds to contrast the warm feelings of summer. The drive along the way was smooth and quick as it had only taken about five minutes to get to the tutorials from my house, we drove through the parking lot and parked in front of a light brown building . My young self looked a long way up the tall building observing the white letters, Sonata School of Music, attached below the windows that were spread in a straight line.

 

I pulled open the glass door and went through an alley of stairs, the lights were dark and flickering. I already began feeling butterflies fluttering in my empty stomach, and nausea quickly began to form. In my head I began to form many questions such as: “What if I embarrass myself in front of all these people trying for tutorials with me?” and “What if I do something extremely wrong or stupid?”. I tried my best to throw away those thoughts because I thought I was being sill. As we went up the gloomy staircase it quickly turned into a glowing and cheerful hallway, a sigh of relief washed over me. The windows that I had seen from the outside had lit up the open doors that led to the different rooms of varying music from drums to guitars. Posters of encouragement were taped along the bright yellow walls and the parents of other children standing and leaning against it. Both my brother and sister went in first to the piano room with buzzing children and cheerful teachers. I waited anxiously for my siblings to finish their tutorial that had lasted for approximately fifteen minutes, performing their skills really well despite their lack of knowledge in playing the piano. The butterflies in my stomach had flown away and I had forgotten all my fears in coming here.

 

When my turn approached to play the piano I felt confident with myself when observing the techniques and skills used by my siblings. I came into the brightly lit room with pianos in a set of two rows perfectly aligned. Piano music books were propped neatly on top of the stands and the name Yamaha was engraved in gold. I sat down on the black, cushioned, long chair closest to the door of the room that I had entered in. children of various sizes and parents began to gradually fill the room. My chest kept continuously, pounding harder and harder for the anticipation to play and show off skills that I thought I new based on what I saw from my siblings. Since this was just a tutorial and I was young, parents were supposed to help you navigate the keys and help with instructions if we needed help. That confidence washed away and I now began to feel the pressure of doing well because I really wanted to learn and master a new instrument. The instructor came into the front of the room and told us what keys to play along with the song that was selected for us to play with the piano. I felt a mix of emotion because I immediately became confused as I fixed my attention to the keys. They looked all the same but only one could be the right one for us to play. As I had my mother help me that confusion had turned into frustration, I did not want help because I wanted to show that I was good at something that I had never tried. I frequently insisted to her that it was not the right key because she had never played the piano either and I thought she was wrong but the instructor from the front of the room had said she was right. I was really disappointed since I thought I knew what I was doing but instead I became really impatient.

 

Everything we were taught, I was not in love with. I was continuously bored and was daydreaming a lot of things especially like what I could be doing rather than sitting in that room. I could be sleeping, eating, or playing outside in the breezy summer air. My eyes kept wandering to different objects around the room that were not relevant to the setting of the piano room like passed the outside of the doors to the clear windows, a reminder of all the things that I could be doing outside like riding my bike and playing with my friends. Although the tutorials were only about approximately twenty minutes for my age group playing the piano, it felt like an hour and eventually the clock ticked to the end of the time of the tutorials and it was finally done.

 

Leaving the room I had thoughts of never pursuing piano as a skill not because I did not show much interest in it, but because I thought I was going to be good at  it which was a mistake. I went through the brightly lit hallway, down the dim stairway, and opened the glass door towards the parking lot. The sky had turned navy blue, and stars high above. The moon was from clear sight with all the clouds from during the day that had vanished. From afar I could see the silhouettes of the evergreen trees and the rocky terrain with it. I were disappointed but I knew what I wanted and it was not piano. At that time I did not have a specific talent that defined who I was.

 

Not even a week of this day happening, I was observing the intricate shapes and designs my friend had been drawing. She had been creating drawings of people and with their own hints of personalities, with different styles of clothing, hair, and faces. That was when I knew there was more to art than just making flat faces with no dimension, but 3 dimensional heads and the body looking like a realistic figure. I thought this was a way to find a new sense of creativity other than learning the piano. To this day I realize that wanting to learn one passion that did not go as planned will sometimes turn into a better one that may still affect you today and possibly in the future. This is exactly what had happened to me.

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