Wow, what an amazing contest! I have to say that this theme has attracted the best poems I've ever judged. You guys have to make this so darn hard for me...
There were quite a few interpretations on the meaning of what it's like to be numb to something. Some of you interpreted the numbness of shock, when things happen so suddenly that you can't feel it. Some of you interpreted as numbness to the world from disillusionment. Some of you even took it literally and associated it with the tingles of sensuality. And that's perfectly fine. My goal is to challenge your mind and hopefully evoke different interpretations, while at the same time expressing these with the right words, the right meter, the right tone. We shall start with our runner-ups, before moving to the Platinum Merit Winner. I have sought to identify the type of numbness seen in each spotlighted poem with my own personal analysis.
Wood: Pixie214--Awkward Numbness
I see your touch against my skin,
but the feeling is pained and distant.
You say you're happy and start to grin,
but your mouth looks fanged and mid-rant.
I see you beam with eyes glittering,
but it turns to that silent disappointment face.
My feelings are numb; cast away from this thing,
Your house has turned to a hovelly place.
This shiny feeling is dull and my push is a pull,
touch has abandoned me and left me numb.
My half empty cup is far from full,
but laying here numb it all seems too dumb.
A very awkward, seemingly unpolished poem, and that's what gives this poem its charm. It doesn't come off as bombastically pathic as other entries, and to me it feels more like the words of someone disillusioned: They try to evoke their unfeeling and simultaneous frustration, but fail to give it life. It almost feels like a certain, inevitable insanity will result from the lack of feeling.
Bronze: Thyll--Unsaved Numbness
Falling into Boredom and Routine
Years pass like the grass
on the field that will always last
Never burn, never fall
Into the hell that tortures all
The numbness which pains me so
There is no answer which I could know
That could save me from this
And so I lie in this abyss
The indifference plagues my heart
Woe is just a part
Of mediocrity
I fear I shall never be free.
Please, save me from this routine
The sickness; so very obscene
No longer, can I stand
The illness I don't understand
The numbness which pains me so
There is no answer which I could know
That could save me from this
And so I die in this abyss
This numbness is extremely self-conscious of its own suffering state and its inability to be rescued from this hell, this illness of mediocrity. Nevertheless it almost seems to cling to life with the last vestiges of hope before they are, one by one, totally extinguished. A few metrical tweaks could be done, but the rhyme is very polished. Well done.
Iron: Moabarmorgamer--Denying Numbness
Numb Immortality
What have I done?
What have I become?
I want to try and run
But to this illness, I succumb
And in the end it matters not
I feel my soul begin to rot
For I can't feel
So, what is real?
I want to feel
But I am numb
I want to scream
But my lips are dumb
My life is coming apart
At the seams
My sleep haunted by darkened dreams
My ruined heart, my ruined soul
But I cannot feel the breaking cold
Breaking down, the final seal
A pact on my grave
As I begin to rant and rave
I miss the touch, a faint allure
Pain, joy, time, I would still endure
And I wish I hadn't come to this
Dreaming of the things I miss
Numb is immortality
I am blind
So how can I see?
Away from the bustle of regular life
But I still feel misery and strife
A cavernous hole within
It's eating me up inside
I cannot hear the din
I cannot heal my mind
Tearing me limb from limb
I can't feel the pain
I stand on the rim
But still, nothing remains
I cannot feel the pass of time
But what I'm doing is not a crime
I wish it was, I wish it was
But nothing anyone says or does
Can free me from the curse
Or is it a gift?
As my wounded self, I nurse
I ponder at this growing rift
A fiery burning
My endless yearning
That I could feel the pain
But it's just so surreal
And so it shall remain
Am I cruel and evil?
Or am I willed and strong?
I've been here since medieval
But somehow it didn't feel long
I wish I could feel something
But it's so hard to tell
It's been so long since nothing
But I'm still going to hell
A gift of immortality
A curse, mayhap, could it be?
For so long, feel is what I've sought
But for so long, I have found but naught
Laughing, loving, screaming, crying
Watching others slowly dying
And I wish, somehow
That I could feel
That I'd never made that accursed deal
But here is here, and now is now
My life is worthless anymore
But it can never end
I wish I could open the door
Your strength, could you lend?
I cannot bear the weight of this
Watching the others' elating bliss
Which is the final one?
Who has lost and who has won?
Please, give me a sign
To open my mind
And let me go across the line
I've waited for so long
I've tried to be so strong
But I really wish that I was dead
Or is it all just in my head
The freedom to die
The freedom to live
But which is the curse
And which is the gift
This poem is much less certain than the one preceding it. There's an undercurrent of denial as we go in through the speech, mixed in with an acute sense of failure and personal disgust as it moves from describing their physical torment into the turmoil of the speaker's mind. The last lines are the most provocative, almost indicating a possible acceptance of their own state. Shocking and alarming.
Silver: Wistress--Disillusioned Numbness
Without Reason
I go through motions
without feeling
Another morning
without reason
I seek a meaning
with no actions
I slip through days
with no reaction
I ask the questions
with no answers
I sneak through weeks
without progression
I go through motions
without feeling
Another year
with no reason
The banal repetition of negatives makes this poem as dull and yet as powerful as the speaker intends. It's an excellent example of the plain poem that makes itself known. Indeed, this numbness makes its oblivion the most known: If both feeling and reason are rejected, what is there to turn to?
Gold: Reton8--Indifferent Numbness
Lively Apathy
Lying down I stand.
The sky above,
Or below?
Is tinted gray,
Or blue?
I sing or mumble,
With notes that are flat,
or sharp?
Songs that pull me together,
or apart?
When I speak I am silent.
My words are brilliant,
or dull?
They leave me full,
or hollow?
Deep in thought I am vacant,
With ideas that are ingenious,
or meaningless?
I am sure,
I am sure?
From a superficial reading, it may seem that the speaker of this poem is indecisively numb. That's what I thought in my first reading. But from a closer look, it becomes apparent that the numbness is of a different flavor. It's one of laziness, of pure apathy, not even desiring or making an effort to make sure of anything. It's uncertain whether this is the cause or the effect, but whatever it is it leads to a terrifying fate. The vacillating can never enjoy life.
Platinum (Merit Winner): thisisnotanalt--Enigmatic Numbness
To study a simple condition
The state of your being
doomed to painless perdition
observing, but not seeing
Taking, going, gone, replacing
Deleting, undoing, backspacing
scratching at the orihalcum casing
at the thought of lack of thoughts
paradoxical, haunting, painted in red
An equation, one variable too many
You read lips, but can't believe the unsaid
strikes like the dropping of a pin. A penny.
Just a one-cent piece
nothing more, nothing less
a quarter for it to cease
but the ATM's broken, no access
there's nothing to lie, nothing to confess
nothing but a bleeding abscess
nothing but burning, freezing numbness
Simply amazing. A tantalizing rhyme and decidedly unorthodox meter mix together to create a mysterious speaker. We don't know their motives, or what caused them to become who they are, but their message remains chilling all the same. The speaker's mixed metaphors only add to the confused nature and the insanity of their numbness. So congratulations, you are the merit winner for this week. Please contact a moderator for your merit.
Now on October 3, the harvest moon (the roundest full moon of the year) will appear. All throughout Asia, which historically followed a lunar calendar, this event is a holiday. In Ancient China renowned poets would compose some of the greatest poems under the light of the moon while very drunk. In Japan, poets would compose haikus and tankas while floating aboard boats, admiring the moon on high and its reflection. This week's theme will be the
moon. I will post some translations of ancient Chinese poetry later to perhaps stimulate some ideas. In the meanwhile, the deadline for submissions will be on
October 5, 2009. I hope to read great things from you.
