The language of the soul

By On June 22, 2010 · 5 Comments · In A Word from You Writer's Showcase

Somebody once called poetry, the language of the soul. Stefanie Allison has given us a sneaky peek into her soul here, with a personal and poetic examination of identity and influence. She invites you to consider Synergy.

Synergy

I am Mommy

Her brown eyes

And hatred

Of exercise

I am Daddy

Our birthright

Is writing

We’re garrulous

I am Grandma

With her laugh

And her red

Polish cheeks

I am Grandpa

The same curls

Sugar laced veins

And achy knees

I am Papa

My lolo

Somehow I will be

A silent hero

I am Mama

My lola

Our love

Is everlasting

I am Chris Kirkpatrick

If he had a normal life

A normal job

But still sing high notes

Lance Bass bore me

On July 26th

Into a Myspace blog

For his right to love

Reichen Lehmkuhl raised me

Up in arms

To be a fighter

With my words

Oh, Salvador Dali

Your illegitimate child

Sees you now

Before you slice Lorca’s eye

No, Dali, I don’t have his rhythm

Or his Andalusian blood

I inherited his duende

Three years before you died

One butterfly wing carries

My love for God

The other butterfly wing carries

My love for my future husband

My legs

My belly

They lay

On the Filipino coast

My chest warms

The Welsh coast

My hands grasp

Scotland and Ireland

My cheek rests

On Czechoslovakia

But faces

Toward the east

Nick Carraway

But feminine

And I see

What I don’t understand

Hemingway’s Maria

Same heart

Same love

But with a brain

I am Renate

Without self-loathing

I am Lola with

A limp and a hymen

Pending DNA tests

I may even be Morgan

Because I doubt

My talent and beauty

Smorgasbord

Of characters

Of people

United

You say conglomerate

I say convergence

This is all

Me. Yet more.

 
About The Author

derek

A writer, an observer and a weaver of dreams.

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  • http://profiles.yahoo.com/u/S4YN7HJTPBRVFTTUVXQTCBELQE Suzanne

    Interesting subject matter for the poem altho it's not totally congruent. Keep up the good work, tho, Stefanie.

  • Peggy R. Dobbs

    “Synergy is when the parts work in concert together to create an outcome that in some way is greater than the sum of the efforts of the parts”…seeming to be by accident, you might say, a “Serendipity”. Knowing you Steph, only through the written word here and on Facebook, serendipitious, seems to be one adjective appropriate to describing you, though I would never have thought of it had you not used Synergy as the name of your poem. I like to think that each of my children, in their uniqueness, is surprisingly the best of every gene that makes up who they are.From your words, I loved the butterfly wings and what they carried. “What is your Synergy?” might be a great writing assignment for all of us. It would certainly be an insightful one. Great work. pd

  • Peggy R. Dobbs

    Since this showcase is suppose to be a learning tool, I hope its alright for me to ask a question.
    How is it incongruent. Would it be because some of the things she named would not be genetic as she began her poem? Also, if my understanding of synergy is not correct, please let me know. Its not a word that rolls off my tongue. pd

  • Miryam

    Your poem reminds me of pop jazz…. notes that bounce like words which create your expressions… Very honest, like you were looking in a mirror… Wonderful. Thanks so much.

  • diana_SD

    What adept brevity! (my comment is longer) For the first 24 lines, you restricted each to 3 or 4 syllables and built your poetic genealogy like a ladder, each line a rung in the evolution of your gestalt; each compact trio or quartet of syllables, a rap, a shout-out, a thank you at the Oscars. To all your influences, whether blood relatives, artists, or places, you nodded to them with a beat. I want to hear stories about the places. What happened in Ireland? On the Filipino coast? How neatly you wrapped the piece in matching bookends: the title, “Synergy,” and its restatement in the end line, “Me. Yet more.” So succinct! Loving words, I relish the differentiation between “conglomerate” and “convergence,” the subtle clarity of connotation that conveys not only the coming together of the parts but their fusion into a whole. Smorgasbord implies richness, yet there is no sense of separate servings of these characters, except in history, because they are merged within you. I especially like your working in “Renate Without self-loathing” and “Lola with A limp and a hymen.” Quite the homage.