Poetry Friday

Poetry Friday: Change of Plans

July 18, 2024 /
 

Not-A-Vacation

 
Last week, I was supposed to be here, soaking up the sun, and relaxing.
 
 
My son was going to SeaBase with Scouts out of St. Thomas, and we were flying down to enjoy a week at a resort for vacation. Several days before we were supposed to leave, my husband wasn’t feeling well. Two days before we were supposed to leave, he ended up in the ER and with emergency abdominal surgery. He’s on the mend, though the mystery of why he was so sick is still to be determined.
 
I spent my “vacation” in a hospital room a 45-min drive from home. We live in an area outside of DC with several big hospitals, but the two closest to our house were both full and had no available surgeons in the time he needed. Our biggest mistake was going to a super-close stand-alone ER instead of the ER inside the closest hospital. We thought, they’d run some tests, give him some meds and send him home to rest and we’d go on our vacation. We were wrong.
 
I’ve done very little writing except for my weekly Nevermores poem. This week we were writing contrapuntal poems–poems that can be read in more than one way. For a more formal definition, click here.  Two examples: “Aubade Ending with the Death of a Mosquito” and “Notes on My Present: A Contrapuntal.” 
 
In my writing bag was a Frommer’s guide to The Virgin Islands. I used it to create a found poem. This contrapuntal poem can be read three ways: 1) left column (the found poem from the guidebook), 2) right column (all my words) 3) reading all the lines (L-R, L-R) like a regular poem.
 

 

Trading St. Thomas for Emergency Surgery: A Contrapuntal

 

leave the hubbub far behind

                           where your medicines dictate your schedule

they offer half-day excursions

                           walking around the ward despite your weakness

standard issue tropical decor

                           bleached sheets and tubes

a vision at night

                           blinding fluorescents and the blue light of the nurse’s screen

soak up the views

                           hospital roof between blind slats

clean and sparkling

                           your room disinfected from the last patient

eclectic mix of global cuisines

                           your stomach can’t handle—so you opt for broths, not

high on your vacation agenda

                           paying for a resort that you can’t sleep in

glittering harbor views

                           your son texts photos of what you’re missing

rimmed in sparkling turquoise seas

                                    not the vacation you’d imagined

 

Draft by Marcie Flinchum Atkins, July 2024

 
 
 

Haiku of the Week

 
wild hairs still dewy
from last night’s party
on the mountain
 
Photo Taken: May 12, 2024 at Shenandoah National Park
Haiku Written: June 27, 2024
 
 
 
 

Poem as Picture Book

by Billy Collins
illustrated by Karen Romagna
Bunker Hill Publishing, 2014
 
 
 

Grow

I had to let a lot of stuff go–this is extremely hard for me. The good news is that I had cleared the decks writing-wise before the surgery because we thought we were going on vacation. But my personality says, “You have all this downtime in the hospital, you should write.” The truth was, I was pretty exhausted from the stress leading up to a middle-of-the-night surgery, and then waiting up for that surgery to be finished, and having to cancel vacation plans, and still make sure my kid was ready to go on his trip. My brain and body rebelled against my writing plans. So I’ve been sleeping and reading. Instead of pushing myself, I’ve tried to accept it. I get so few days as a “full-time writer” because of my day job that I feel like I’m wasting my summer time if I don’t write a few hours a day.

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29 Comments

  • Rose Cappelli

    July 18, 2024 at 5:48 PM

    Marcie – please be kind to yourself. You went through a lot this week and still managed to write a wonderful contrapuntal poem. I hope you take some time to rest and that your husband continues to heal.

  • Margaret Simon

    July 18, 2024 at 6:50 PM

    What a bummer! I’m so sorry this happened. We’ve had two summers of medical events and no vacation. I just booked a place for a Christmas getaway with our kids and grands. Here’s hoping it happens. The form you used is new to me. I want to look more into it. I’m glad you were able to get some writing done, enough to join the roundup today. Not writing would have been understandable.

  • Laura Purdie Salas

    July 19, 2024 at 12:51 PM

    Oh, Marcie–I’m so sorry. ALL of this sucks, except for the fact that your husband is on the mend. I’m sad for your lost vacation and lost writing time. Your poem’s so clever–the lines about the eclectic cuisine that his stomach can’t handle–ha! Sometimes, you just have to lean into the crap and acknowledge it. I hope things get better soon. <3

  • Denise Krebs

    July 19, 2024 at 6:18 PM

    Marcie, I’m soooo sorry for this bad news. St. Thomas would have definitely had better views and tropical decor. The contrapuntal form is very interesting. You seem to have nailed it with so many great lines and images, like:
    “bleached sheets and tubes / a vision at night / blinding fluorescents and the blue light of the nurse’s screen / soak up the views” I hope all is well and you are on the mend!

  • Tabatha

    July 19, 2024 at 8:18 PM

    Marcie, I’m sorry about your husband’s mystery illness. I hope it doesn’t return. You did a top-notch job with your contrapuntal, nailing the frustration of the contrast between places.

  • PATRICIA J FRANZ

    July 19, 2024 at 10:14 PM

    I lingered on the line “hospital roof between blind slats” –realizing how long you likely stared out that window in a daze wondering how your world became up-ended. This post makes me think of Rose’s poem “Enough” — the foot-stomp and simultaneous surrender to life. And then your hungover flower, to make me laugh — Yes, Marcie, I do hope you go easy on yourself and let your body give in to this unplanned vacation –even from your writing schedule. There will come time for it again.

  • Annette Whipple

    July 20, 2024 at 12:01 PM

    I learned hospitals (and the aftermath) aren’t good for writing. I recently took care of myself when a loved one was in the hospital by showering daily and eating 3 times a day whether I was hungry or not.

    Be kind to yourself. Emergencies and disappointments don’t lend themselves to much writing for most of us.

  • Teresa Robeson

    July 20, 2024 at 3:46 PM

    Oh, Marcie, that is super scary about your husband needing emergency surgery (and making you miss a much-needed vacation). Big hugs to you and lots of healing vibes for your husband. 💗

  • Carol Varsalona

    July 20, 2024 at 7:00 PM

    Marcie, I am holding on to the thought I’ve had throughout my years: “Life is fragile and uncertain.
    After a springtime of an unexpected medical issues, I can sympathize with your husband and your lost vacation. I also have felt guilty not writing. Stress is the element that brings the body and will to a standstill. Despite your issues you were able to writ ea beautiful haiku. At least nature had a party.

  • Carol Varsalona

    July 20, 2024 at 7:04 PM

    Marcie, I am holding on to the thought I’ve had throughout my years: “Life is fragile and uncertain.
    After a springtime of unexpected medical issues, I can sympathize with your husband and your lost vacation.
    I also have felt guilty not writing. Stress is an element that brings the body and will to a standstill. Despite your issues you were able to write a beautiful haiku. At least nature had a party.

  • Jone MacCulloch

    July 20, 2024 at 7:22 PM

    Oh Marcie, I can’t imagine. I am glad that your husband is on the mend. I do love the contrpuntal and am curious about it. Love this line: they offer half-day excursions
    walking around the ward despite your weakness

  • Mary Lee

    July 21, 2024 at 7:22 PM

    I had to make lemonade when I was stuck in New York, but that’s NOTHING compared to how flexible you have had to be! Hoping your husband is on the mend. What a scare!

  • Michelle Kogan

    July 23, 2024 at 5:38 PM

    You penned a powerful poem Marcie! I’m familiar with this form from a Poetry Workshop I did at the Poetry Foundation here in Chicago a while back. The additonal contrapuntal are strong too, I think I have read “Notes on My Present.” You’re a real go-getter—it’s hard for me to slow down too. Hope your husband continues to heal.