Artist Tracey Emin
The Unmade Bed
Emin’s bed leaves me ‘unclean’ and sad for
her suicidal past. Were it mine, I
could not display it, I would set it on
fire but many more images might erupt,
just burning to be exorcised exhibits.
Beds are where all of human life reclines:
the secret, the hidden, our tears, joys and
dreams, sex and birth, sickness, death and dying,
all borne of the body and the soul.
A passion for sleep may be a death wish
but in my brass bed I live half a life
where dreams are, where books are read by candlelight,
where thoughts come and poems bubble to the fore.
Warm as a womb, a haven, soft, secure,
it is never ever made, the white linen
only shaken and daily aired to change
its energies. Imagine my hell now:
never feeling tired, keeping going,
never sleeping, keeping going, never
stopping, keeping going, never resting,
keeping going, never ever finding
time for lying down and dreaming
till we end our waking lives and die.
Cait O’Connor
Magpie Tale time again, go there for more.
12 comments:
I really like this one. I like the contrast of the hopeful against the tragic.
Oh, Cait, this is a powerful write. I also like the contrast between the hopeful beginning and the tragic end (or soon to be tragic). Is/was Emin suicidal? (I know nothing about her) Thank you for this!
Profound and quite amazing ....
How come an unmade bed brings out the worst in us, makes our imaginations focus on doom and gloom? You do make us think hard...
I love your bed. I thoroughly dislike Emin’s
There’s nothing sordid about yours, joy and peace, tranquility and creativity.
Emin’s is a pit.
This is powerful! Thanks for sharing some facts, too.
Good strong imagery. Nice one.
Very bittersweet, Cait, like floating in a warm briny solution , with an overwhelming sense of peace, calm and well being , connected to a tube that ensures all my needs are instantly met .....
Thanks
Cait, I do like the way that your words can lead us into unexpected territory. You treat us with care on these journeys, and I know I want to read each word carefully, too. Often there seems to be a surprise, and then, when I reflect on the poem as a whole, I realize that the surprising turn was a natural part of the pathway you'd prepared.
Thank you so much! I write this as someone who had the luxury to sleep ten hour from Sunday night into Monday morning. Awareness of a few dreams told me that I might have been slightly restless, but mostly I think it was deep, deep sleep.
xo
Excellent- I view my bed and bedroom as a place of rest, a place to read and drink milk with cookies, a place to hug and cuddle and kiss with my sweetheart. And our kitty nestles in with us as each new day begins.
Thanks Tess!
A very thought provoking write with depth and discovery. Made me stop and think about my own one!
Nicely done ..thanks for sharing
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