[stylist] House of Cards

Mon Apr 16 21:57:50 UTC 2012

Myrna,,
This is the best sestina I have ever read.
I read Lynda's critique, and could not add or change a thing.
I love it when one has the skills that you have to share these feelings in
such    a creative way. While we have all been there, many can think of no
way to share it so effectively.
Jackie

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On
Behalf Of KajunCutie926 at aol.com
Sent: Wednesday, April 11, 2012 8:44 AM
To: stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re: [stylist] House of Cards

Thank you Lynda.. the poem was inspired by the life of  a friend and was 
written simply from observations of what she had gone through  and is still 
going through... I appreciate the kind words..  Myrna

In a message dated 4/11/2012 9:53:25 A.M. Central Daylight Time,  
llambert at zoominternet.net writes:

Finally,  I am trying to go back to your poem and see what is there. Here 
is where I am  at with it. 

Begins in third person - someone is telling the story  about "she" who was 
sheltered  and innocent, or in denial of her  situation -  living in a 
dangerous place that was about to collapse her  entire world.  

In the third stanza she is described as alone -  yet, soon we see that we 
are made aware that there are "others" who are there,  and others who know 
dark secrets. They are called "evil" and have overtaken  innocence, and 
brought destruction or an end to earlier times when she felt  safe and happy
- but 
she was deceived and never truly was safe or happy. All  appearances of 
domestic order are collapsing at this point.

The journey  continues with "she" trying to recapture things from the past 
- yet they are  illusive. She "picks" at things, rooting about in the 
destruction - laughter  is usually a joyful idea, but not here. Here,
laughter is 
really a kind of  mocking feeling that we get. Something that is buried deep

down inside, yet  being revealed.

And, then we get to a change towards the end.   Questions are asked, not 
particularly to the reader, but questions one might  ask oneself when being 
introspective. The questions bring us deeper inside her  thoughts as she is 
turning over the questions, and she seems to be turning  around slowly, away

from the destruction we have been viewing.

Finally,  we have the passage of time, when "time" is descrived as a being 
- with  "muscles."  Time seems to be flesh and blood, and brings with "it" 
some  distance.  While time has human qualities, it is still neutral, and  
genderless. It is an "it."

In the concluding tercet, we are still in  the past tense, as we have been 
throughout the telling of the story. But there  is a new awareness and a 
knowing here, that leads the reader to have a glimmer  of hope in a
situation 
that seems to have been on-going for a very long  time.  There is no real 
changes that we can tell in the outward  situations, yet, we do have a
gentle 
moving towards awareness that did not  exist when the poem began.

I hope this is helpful to you! I enjoyed  this poem very much and it is 
really successful. You have given it a flow and  an elegance that is hard to
do 
with this form often times. There is nothing  forced here, and the parts 
all contribute to the whole of this poem. Because  the poem is written in
past 
tense and third person, there is a distance that  we have. We have a God's 
eye view of the person we are reading about. We view  her from the distance 
as we read her story.

Well done!   Lynda

Once upon another time she lived
In a  fragile house of cards.  She  knew
Only that she was sheltered,  never heard
The winds of change that  silently
Blew against the  coated-paper walls
Of her blissful existence,  until it  crumpled.

She remained quiet, not discussing her situation with anyone  - what would 
happen if she had shared the secrets she was hiding inside the  structure of

false appearances? 

She found herself alone amid  the crumpled
Ruins of the life she had  known, no longer  lived
Behind the sanctity of sacred walls
Which kept its   secrets.   Innocence knew
It would die in shame,  silently
Lying in  the ruins of her being. Unheard.

The Knave  had claimed he heard
No denial or admonition and she   crumpled,
Allowing the lifeless cards to fall silently
One by  one.   In darkness lived
The Kings and Queens.  Only  Innocence knew
Evil  had shattered the paper walls.

She picked  through discarded walls
Searching for treasured Innocence but   heard
Only silence.  Laughter, she knew,
Lay buried in the life now  crumpled
And yet she survived.  She  lived
To carry the  secrets within her silently.

And time, in its fashion, ticked  silently
Within her soul.  She  woke one day to find walls
Of  Faith where debris once lived.
Was that the  whisper of promise  heard
>From beneath the dreams crumpled?
Could she  regain the life  she once knew?

Again, time flexed its knowing muscle for it  knew
That some things must  be borne silently
And without  reprieve.  The life lost in the  crumpled
Ruins would not return  to thrive within the walls
Of yesterday.  Truth's hammer clearly  heard
As it rang through dreams not  lived.

And in her soul she  knew, that no longer would walls
Stand by silently,  ignoring the  whispers heard
While the house crumpled, burying what once   lived.

C March 2004

Lynda Lambert
104 River  Road
Ellwood City, PA 16117

724 758 4979

My Blog:   http://www.walkingbyinnervision.blogspot.com
My Website:   http://lyndalambert.com

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