Languishing

Summary

The text is a poetic exploration of the inner conflict and emotional turmoil experienced by an individual who feels torn between hope and despair, leading to a state of languishing.

Abstract

The prose poem "Languishing" delves into the complex emotional state of a person who is caught between two contrasting halves of their being. One half is filled with hope and desire, striving to rise above darkness and pursue happiness, while the other half is weighed down by a joyless disposition that sabotages these efforts. This internal struggle is described through vivid metaphors, such as being an emulsion of immiscible substances, where the individual's hopeful side attempts to gather positive experiences into a bouquet, only to be undone by the sullen side that leaves them tumbling back into despair. The poem captures the essence of a person's battle with motivation and procrastination, where the desire to achieve is constantly at odds with a self-destructive tendency to self-sabotage, ultimately resulting in a state of languishing and fatigue.

Opinions

The author expresses a deep sense of internal conflict, portraying a duality within themselves that is both spirited and sullen.
There is a recurring theme of hope being counteracted by a dismal outlook, which prevents the speaker from fully embracing their aspirations.
The poem conveys a sense of frustration with the speaker's own inability to maintain focus and drive due to their conflicting emotions.
The author seems to criticize their own procrastination, suggesting it inhibits their potential and leads to a monotonous cycle of indecision and inaction.
The use of the phrase "she loves me, she loves me not" implies a sense of futility and repetitiveness in the speaker's emotional struggle, likening it to an unending and tedious game.

A Prose Poem

Image by the writer

I feel like an emulsion; my one half dispersed in other half, both immiscible, a combination of spirited and sullen, one half of hope pulls me out of the cold well of darkness, another joyless half leaves the ropes loose, I tumble back to the depths of unfathomable core of time, Hopeful one picking desires and stringing in a posy to heart’s delight, dismal half pulls the thread violently so there remains only a flurry of fallen leaves, a pain plumped up by passion feeds hopeful half to rise above clouds, idling streak of wild one keeps peeling off its flesh, bottling the pain in acidic archive, frolicking half sitting at window yearning for rain dance, drenching in rains cancelled by sulky half since soggy shoes would mud paint the floor, procrastination nibbling at hoofs of about to gallop spunk, both halves of my colloidal existence in conflict, focus disrupted, work-struck me languishing, chalked up to wild half’s illogical stupefying fatigue, boring, unyielding 'she loves me, she loves me not' kind.

In response to the Wednesday prompt “mixtures and structures" by J.D. Harms in Scrittura.