[stylist] House of Cards

Mon Apr 16 22:09:58 UTC 2012

Hi Jackie,
Ditto works just fine.
I am not sure what I can do to send you poems. If I put them in the body of 
the email, I think they become scrambled. If you have an idea of how I can 
send something to you in a different way, I will try it.

This "House of Cards" poem has stayed in my mind since my first reading of 
it.  I knew nothing about how or why it was written - but in analyzing it, I 
was able to discern the tension and the remote viewing aspect of it very 
quickly.  I think it is quite a successful poem on many levels.  It is 
exciting to me when I  read some really good poems, or other works here on 
the Writer's Division.

Lynda

Lynda Lambert
104 River Road
Ellwood City, PA 16117

724 758 4979

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

----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Jacqueline Williams" <jackieleepoet at cox.net>
To: "'Writer's Division Mailing List'" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Sent: Monday, April 16, 2012 5:45 PM
Subject: Re: [stylist] House of Cards

> Lynda,
> I still have not written my critique of House of Cards. After reading 
> yours,
> I am in awe of your understanding of the content as my own understanding,
> and also in accord so strongly with the flow and not forced aspect of this
> difficult form. How can I just write a comment that says, "ditto?"
> Incidentally, I still cannot open any of your attachments because e I 
> cannot
> seem to open the conversion package. I have a friend who graduates from
> university in another week with a computer major, and he will help me. If
> not, Robert. I value your writings and comments.
> Jackie
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On
> Behalf Of Lynda Lambert
> Sent: Wednesday, April 11, 2012 7:52 AM
> To: Writer's Division Mailing List
> Subject: Re: [stylist] House of Cards
>
> 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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