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A Prelude Into My Past and Honoring the Great Victorian Poet Christina Rosetti

Missy is a unique writer who enjoys inviting her readers into her thoughts through her poetry and other topics of discussion.  

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My Unique Thought Process

I have always had these epiphanies that I talk about a lot when I publish my poems, and this poem is mixed with several days of emotion and inspiration.

There is an everyday occurrence that I go through simply pondering my life, which includes one single person that has not left my mind for quite a while now. However, it’s not the one I write about here. Even so, this person still had my attention as I wrote out my dream. Not specifically for the theme, but I’m complicated in a way that everything I write is my life and feelings as a whole somehow. Even if the words do not play on all my thoughts, they are there. I guess I live in all my moments and pick the one I’ll write about--this one was easy today.

The Dream Never Goes Away It Recycles.

This poem is a recurring dream that I have had through the span of eleven years. It’s been about two years since one like this has appeared. Therefore, it made me feel inspired that it may not return. I wake with such a cloud hanging over me when I have this dream. It is like I have visited that part of my past that holds the most profound hurt.

I cannot help but realize this part of my life had a significant impact on me. Real love turned into what had been a huge lie kept from me. It was the most horrible feeling one could have ever experienced when I finally found out the truth. It made me feel like I was dying in slow motion but still fighting to survive. It was a betrayal that I don’t wish upon anyone.

Eight years of a lie is hard to get over, and although I feel I have achieved the goal of living through it -- I have been plagued with this dream through the years that will come out of nowhere to remind me. The dream stays the same as far as the emotions it takes me through, although the scenes are different sometimes. There has got to be a reason it wants to revisit me, but as of now, all I can get out of it is poetry. And so, I shall keep writing it down.

Christina Rossetti

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Christina Rosetti Poem

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A Big Thank You to the Poetess Christina Rossetti

Although it may have been the familiar dream that prompted me to write this poem this morning, I believe that a poem of Christina Rossetti's that I ran upon yesterday also helped me power through this one. It, too, helped me pen my poem to paper. Her inspirational but sad words may have brought me right back to this dream I thought I had ridden myself of finally. Could it have triggered this past sadness inside of me and forced my hand today? I don't know. However, I feel that it touched me so deeply that it just may have.

Christina Rossetti's poetry carries specific themes that I believe are similar to my style of poetry -- love, death, and all typical cycles we go through in life. Being a poet and finding another poet I was unfamiliar with struck my interest enough not to disregard it because of an unfamiliar language. Not to mention, she was of the Victorian era, and those who know me know that I adore all things of that time.

I hope you like my poem and this video of someone reading the very poem by Ms. Rossetti that helped me bring my own to life, "Remember."


More About Christina Rosetti and Her Life

  • Christina Rossetti | Poetry Foundation
    Of all Victorian women poets, posterity has been kindest to Christina Rossetti. Her poetry has never disappeared from view, and her reputation, though it suffered a decline in the first half of the twentieth century, has always been preserved to some

Remember

Fun Fact:

Several of Christina Rossetti's poems have found their way into becoming well-known hymns.

a-prelude-into-my-past-life-narrative-poetry

Dreams Do Come...

I woke once at the break

of dawn...


then slowly I fell

back beyond…


where life was somehow

good it seemed...


that misunderstood

peace...


my stare at false

certainty…


A dark glow of hanging

on...


I’m here again, and

feeling low...


Though, if it was in some

way fine...


Yet, my Presence here feels

victimized...


Help you...

no, not again...


I tried that once; you

committed Sin...


I was left to feel the blame

of your lies...


You showed me

fake…


but promised me

white...


The shimmer on my finger

which I gave back...


hurt like a knife; it bloodied

my back...


Why are you here, I

heard myself ask...


Gracing my dreams after

many years they’ve passed...


I feel a womb that is

stinging you...


a desperation for me to pull

you through...


I cannot do this, why must

you ask...


I left long ago; I survived your

hellish lash...


But you beg of me to be

the one you once knew...


the warrior kind that takes

all pain...


an angel kind

that cannot lay blame...


I scream at you to go

away...


my conviction of strength

was hard to gain...


If I give in will I feel

ashamed...


I see myself in a glow

kneeling down...


I beg for answers. I just

want to go now...


What does he expect me

to do...


I feel drained, but I can’t

get up or move...


When I finally lift my head

to him…


I see nothing, but

a dark man’s grin...


He slowly fades away

from me…


disappearing in a

black hole dream...


his dirty laughter

surrounding my soul...


Then with a gasp, I am

awake at home...

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In the Bleak Mid-Winter by: Christina Rosetti Sung by: Sarah Mclachlan

Who is Your Favorite Poet...

© 2017 Missy Smith

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