Suicide as a topic for a poem?

[unapologetic]

For those of you who might worry, don't. I'm not thinking about it and
nobody close to me has done it... recently. I have been thinking a
lot about an old roommate of mine who killed herself back in
'95. Although I don't usually write poetry as a form of therapy (I have
employed talented therapists in the past for that), I think in this
case it might be a good way to work out the kinks in my thinking about her
death. The problem is, I'm not sure I can come up with something new
and original to say about the topic. What do you all think?

 

[cloudy]

I think anything is a good topic for a poem, really. I wrote one about my SO's experiences with residential school as a young child. It may not read that way, but that's what it was about.

If it's important to you, write it.

 

[TheRainMan]

For those of you who might worry, don't. I'm not thinking about it and
nobody close to me has done it... recently. I have been thinking a
lot about an old roommate of mine who killed herself back in
'95. Although I don't usually write poetry as a form of therapy (I have
employed talented therapists in the past for that), I think in this
case it might be a good way to work out the kinks in my thinking about her
death. The problem is, I'm not sure I can come up with something new
and original to say about the topic. What do you all think?

at certain times, i have definitely found writing poetry to be cathartic.

and i think you can come up with something original and fresh to say about anything. it's all been said before, but there are an endless number of ways to make it feel new.

 

[poppy1963]

A great deal of my poetry here has been mortality-focussed. It's not about finding something new to write about a topic...It's about your experience of a situation or topic. Sometimes you can put somebody at ease or you can say that same 'ol thing for the umpteenth time that teaches you or someone else a lesson that's been particularly...evasive! LOL! It happened to me today...

I'm sorry you had the experience of a suicide in your life. I worked with both suicidal people and those who "survived" completed suicides. Some came to the Survivors group 20 years after the fact of a loved one's completed suicide so you tend to work out the issues on a continuum I think.

When the time is right, the teacher appears! I've had some wonderful teachers around me today....a few all at once...saying very similar stuff at times in their own ways...it's been both amazing and a bit disconcerting but I am grateful to the universe for the "lessons".

I ramble now (I do that alot sometimes....).

Just write your poems!!! Your muse is calling!!!

 

[champagne1982]

Poetry as therapy isn't a bad method, as long as you recognize the writing of your thoughts as simply a means to evaluate them in a more tangible way than feeling sad or depressed or anxious.
I have a suicide poem.
Mine was more directed in anger at the way some efforts of our society makes it easier to get the tools to commit suicide than they do to provide access to the means to prevent it.

suicide?

go your own way little seed
and take a spark of hope

extinguish memory in a flash
of bright light

Smoke at the end of a barrel
Off the blade of a knife
Seen behind bulging eyes

as your fingers tear at the rope
as you press towels to your wrists
as your fingers push the buttons

summon them in drops of red
splashes of red
flickers of red
call for help now

don't you see that
a life not loved
is a love not lived?

 

[FifthFlower]

Without Explanation

He hung himself on that spring day
When happy birds got in his way,
And lovers hid so they could play,
But he was left alone that day.

 

[unapologetic]

About my friend

The thing is, even 12 years later, it still doesn't make sense that she did this. When I think of her, I think of her laughing and the two of us plotting against the third girl who shared our apartment. I think about how I got her into a bar when she was underage. I knew at the time that she was on anti-depressants, but she was always laughing. Then she killed herself a little more than a year after we stopped living together.

I think maybe if I write the poem in her voice, it might work...

Everyone, thanks for your advice.

 

[denis hale]

my two cents

Instead of making the poem "about" suicide in general terms,
perhaps you ought to write a requiem for your friend--and infer
the suicide, through revelation of her character.

If you can bring out the qualities that made your friend shine in life,
those qualities which drew you to her, and that still resonate for U,
more than a decade after the fact, then she'll shine on the page--and
as readers we will feel the terrible tragedy of her passing.

The requiem is an extremely powerful poetic form.

But Suicide, as a topic, unless you bring something totally new
to the table--is so ubiquitous (and even superfluous) as to border
on the cliche.

Much luck, and btw--I've had a friend die the same way, so I know
how much it hurts.

Good luck w/ yr writing.


--D

 

[unapologetic]

Instead of making the poem "about" suicide in general terms,
perhaps you ought to write a requiem for your friend--and infer
the suicide, through revelation of her character.

If you can bring out the qualities that made your friend shine in life,
those qualities which drew you to her, and that still resonate for U,
more than a decade after the fact, then she'll shine on the page--and
as readers we will feel the terrible tragedy of her passing.

The requiem is an extremely powerful poetic form.

But Suicide, as a topic, unless you bring something totally new
to the table--is so ubiquitous (and even superfluous) as to border
on the cliche.

Much luck, and btw--I've had a friend die the same way, so I know
how much it hurts.

Good luck w/ yr writing.


--D

This is why I keep coming back here, even though my life is crazy busy. This is where my thoughts had turned, but I hadn't thought of the requiem angle. Funny thing is, I was listening to Mozart's Requiem today, so I should have.

 

[Liar]

The problem is, I'm not sure I can come up with something new
and original to say about the topic. What do you all think?

That you won't know until you try.

 

[FifthFlower]

The thing is, even 12 years later, it still doesn't make sense that she did this. When I think of her, I think of her laughing and the two of us plotting against the third girl who shared our apartment. I think about how I got her into a bar when she was underage. I knew at the time that she was on anti-depressants, but she was always laughing. Then she killed herself a little more than a year after we stopped living together.

I think maybe if I write the poem in her voice, it might work...

Everyone, thanks for your advice.

I think you have already written the idea for the poem. Here is my take on what you said, using your own words, but making some modifications to make it more metrical. Not all of the lines are the same length.


The thing is, even 12 years later,
It still does not make sense.
I think of her. I think of laughter.
I think of that third girl as well
That we would plot against.
I think how I got her into
A bar when she was underage.
She was on medication,
But always laughing anyway.
And then she killed herself
A little more than a year after
We had ceased to be together.

 

[unapologetic]

I think you have already written the idea for the poem. Here is my take on what you said, using your own words, but making some modifications to make it more metrical. Not all of the lines are the same length.


The thing is, even 12 years later,
It still does not make sense.
I think of her. I think of laughter.
I think of that third girl as well
That we would plot against.
I think how I got her into
A bar when she was underage.
She was on medication,
But always laughing anyway.
And then she killed herself
A little more than a year after
We had ceased to be together.

I never thought of doing it this way... just dumping and molding the dump into a poem. You've definitely given me something to think about.

 

[twelveoone]

For those of you who might worry, don't. I'm not thinking about it and
nobody close to me has done it... recently. I have been thinking a
lot about an old roommate of mine who killed herself back in
'95. Although I don't usually write poetry as a form of therapy (I have
employed talented therapists in the past for that), I think in this
case it might be a good way to work out the kinks in my thinking about her
death. The problem is, I'm not sure I can come up with something new
and original to say about the topic. What do you all think?

be careful of the portal, words open doors

 

[annaswirls]

I would warn against writing it from her point of view unless it is a step in the process of understanding.

I like particulars, even more specific than what you said about plotting against a third roommate. Try remembering one specific plot, or something she said, what she was wearing, jot down the things you remember from 12 years ago. There are reasons that you remember them, it is because those are the details that your mind has set aside as clues to understand. It is all the human mind wants to do, to solve puzzles, riddles, to understand, so the details we remember, I think, even if they do not seem to be important to the bigger meaning, are. For an everyday human, the trick is figuring out why they are important. For the poet, the trick is figuring out why they are important and how to tie the meaning with the memory without spelling it out too clearly.... to lead the reader through the experience and give good hints at the meaning, let them discover it themselves.

This is all very easy for me to say, it is virtually impossible to do. I think I might have gotten it right about 3 times out of hundreds of poems, so please do not see this as preachy.

Suicide is in a space by itself. A mystery that goes beyond a person's experience or mood or appearance. It is this thing that looms and appears without invitation or provocation. Sometimes, even in my good days when I was honestly happy and doing very well, this image of my own slit wrists, this primal urge to DO IT would be there, uninvited and in my face so clear I would say what the hell??? And shake it off. Or standing on edges, with that strong urge to jump jump fall! It is a crazy thing, don't ever blame yourself, it does not seem like you are, but don't.

Here is my wrist poem, the second one I think I ever posted at lit back in 2003? Gosh this version I found is very science-y! and so wordy and what does it say anyway?can you pack any more images into one poem? I swear I hate my poetry. forgive the punctuation.

Dennis and 1201 your responses were inspirational, thank you.


It all started

I.

It all started when the orange paint-stick
bled into spilled water

thumbnails dig under tight tendons,
play slippery strings
of a silent cello

marionette ligament
follows the lead in a
bone-pulling-bone slow dance grip

It all started with
a broken water glass and a loose wire

Blue veins collapse
blood drains with a wide thumb push
through one-way valves

Axons play hot potato with blinding signals,
cerebrum scrambles for an explanation

She wakes
to the taste of copper,
fingers wait for direction

 

[unapologetic]

I swear I hate my poetry.

Well I don't!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here's the first thing I've managed to put together. Funny, I started to type "first thing I've managed to put on paper" but I don't write it by hand - I always write poetry on my laptop lately. Huh. Anyway, on to the first attempt:

A Suicide’s Decision

Blunt trauma brings blood
to the surface, but no further.
A sharp edge is better,
showing red the light of day.
Try as I might to staunch the flow,
the pain will never slow
below a trickle, unlike blood.
Even as it persists, I know I can’t.
So I'll heed the lake’s comfort calls,
promising to change sibilant sounds
to silence, if I change water for air.
All with one breath.

 

[normal jean]

Since I first saw this thread, I have had a poem weighing on my mind. I wrote it today after thinking on it a while.

Last week hubby and I spent some time at the Saluda river and it seemed to just come from that.

The poem is about a person contemplating suicide as she sits on the banks of the river. And she comes to the knowledge that she will do it someday and that is all fine and good, but the poem is about how the river will consume yet another body and not even care...


ps, I am working on my "style" and trying to avoid like death, ( no pun intended) short choppy lines. If this poem sucks, Im sure you guys will let me know in your kind hearted way...xoxoxo






downing her

I sit beside her and drink her in.
Admiration is never enough and she beckons.
I believe she craves the act of my surrender
and the final plunge of my body into her being.

There will come a day when I answer her call
and immerse myself and my soul into her,wholly.
Head first, eyes open, teeth-bared wide smile
grinning like a madman.

The first assault will be her chill,
as she flows like Earth's blood
from beneath three hundred sixty-five feet
of quiet and crushing solitude.

Saluda, Saluda,
I whisper as she courses along.
Take my breath away.
Court me to the edge of the ocean.
Wet and swollen, I follow.

 

[normal jean]

Well I don't!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here's the first thing I've managed to put together. Funny, I started to type "first thing I've managed to put on paper" but I don't write it by hand - I always write poetry on my laptop lately. Huh. Anyway, on to the first attempt:

A Suicide’s Decision

Blunt trauma brings blood
to the surface, but no further.
A sharp edge is better,
showing red the light of day.
Try as I might to staunch the flow,
the pain will never slow
below a trickle, unlike blood.
Even as it persists, I know I can’t.
So I'll head the lake’s comfort calls,
promising to change sibilant sounds
to silence, if I change water for air.
All with one breath.

wow!! powerful stuff, Youve done a great job.

But.... how about-

blue turns to red in light of day

ya know, blood is blue while inside, red when it comes out...

anyway, I really liked the poem, even considering the darkness.



NJ

 

[unapologetic]

wow!! powerful stuff, Youve done a great job.

But.... how about-

blue turns to red in light of day

ya know, blood is blue while inside, red when it comes out...

anyway, I really liked the poem, even considering the darkness.



NJ

I thought about incorporating that concept, but decided against it because the idea of bringing the blood out felt more important. Thanks, though.

 

[normal jean]

ahhh, okay. I guess my suggestion would have been more subtle and you needed that POW,

good work. good voice.

xoxox

maria